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sundrop-writes · 4 months

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Lessons For A Genius - Lesson One

Sub!Spencer Reid x Dom!Fem!Reader

Lesson One: Slick Silicone

(aka the one with the pocket pussy)

Summary:

What could a certified genius possibly have to learn from someone like you? Turns out - a hell of a lot.

And the real ‘teaching’ started when your graphic explanations of slang toward Spencer for the sheer shock value of it turned into something a lot more… hands on.

Sub!Spencer Reid x (BAU)Dom!Fem!Reader. Co-Workers to Friends with Benefits. Smut. Set during early Season 2.

Word Count: 17,200

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.

Warnings: A lot of general stuff pertaining to an average Criminal Minds episode - mentions of death, mentions of murder/killing, mentions of possible trauma from being in the BAU, somewhat graphic descriptions of a dismembered corpse; this is not a casefic but there is a small section where Reid, Morgan, and the reader are at a crime scene and details of a case are mentioned (not a case in the canon, one that I made up); the reader sticks her hand inside of a corpse to get something out of it for the purpose of discovering evidence; making inappropriate jokes about dead bodies - the reader character uses dark humour to cope with the trauma of the BAU job; Spencer doesn’t understand sexual slang and the reader has to explain it to him (warning for slightly awkward moments because of this?); the reader calls Spencer ‘honey’ (could be considered condescending); use of Y/N and L/N (meaning Your Last Name); Reid struggling with his sexuality/Reid has some internal biphobia; mentions of anal sex/anal stimulation but it does not take place during the fic; passing mentions of Reid being bullied in school; mentions of past Spencer x Lila Archer (in this fic, she blew him while he was working that case but they didn’t keep contact when he left LA); mentions of the reader going to a sex shop; mentions of the reader dressing feminine/wearing lingerie; mention of Spencer being taller than the reader - but I think he would be taller than most people.

This is primarily a smut fic; there is sub/dom dynamics - Reid is submissive and much more inexperienced (he is 'learning’ about sex from the reader character, but he is not completely a virgin, he has had one singular sexual experience before); the reader is dominant and much more experienced sexually; the reader has a vagina and uses she/her pronouns; mentions of Reid being 'innocent’ (it’s more so that sex is an under-researched area of his life and he is too shy to explore it by himself); undertones of corruption kink; use of a sex toy - the reader gifts Spencer a fleshlight/pocket pussy and they use it together; hand kink - the reader admires Spencer’s hands; undertones of corruption kink - the reader is enjoying 'corrupting’ Spencer and showing him these things for the first time; BDSM/kink negotiations, possibly under-negotiated kink; the reader teaches Spencer BDSM terms.

Everything in this fic is fully consensual and safe for the characters; Spencer calls the reader 'Miss’; mentions of Spencer cumming inside the reader (does not actually happen during the fic); passing mentions of Spencer being insecure (about his sexual skills and his looks); Spencer is very obedient; the reader calls Spencer: 'good boy’, 'baby’, 'pretty boy’, 'dumb baby’; most of this fic is Spencer being fucked with a fleshlight while it’s controlled by the reader; heavy praise kink (from the reader toward Spencer); light bondage - Spencer’s hands are bound behind his back; edging - orgasm delay/orgasm denial (from the reader toward Spencer); the reader makes Spencer ask permission to cum; some size kink - big dick Spencer is too big to fully fit inside of a fleshlight; Spencer does a lot of begging in this; slight crying kink - the reader thinks Spencer looks pretty when he cries from being overwhelmed/edged a lot; degradation kink, dumbification kink, reader is condescending towards Spencer; some overstimulation toward the end; slight cum kink - Spencer cums all over himself and the reader enjoys it. I believe that’s it. There is descriptions of aftercare!

A/N: fair warning - a lot of this fic is build up/sexual tension (my speciality). and there is a long section before the smut where the reader is teaching Spencer BDSM terms and teaching him how to pick a safeword, but I think it’s interesting and I enjoyed writing it. and it’s worth the pay-off imo.

...

Being an FBI Profiler meant there were some rather… strange parts to your day.

Things that were once in a lifetime tragedies for other people that had become intensely casual routines for you. Things like - looking at gruesome crime scene photos, seeing a dead body in person, facing down a killer.

You liked to thank your nihilism and dark sense of humor for keeping you sane, working a job that would have driven others insane in such a short amount of time. You also liked to distance yourself from the darkness of it, and preferred to think of the people you helped, rather than the people you couldn’t.

Especially during moments like this, when you were exiting the car at yet another crime scene. It was a dump sight for the body of another young woman, adding to the trail of victims this newest killer was challenging the BAU with.

“Just like all the others… the limbs and jaw are missing. Eyes gouged out. This guy has one hell of a compulsion.” Morgan commented, looking down at the body… or rather, the torso, with intense disdain.

“I would say it’s less of a compulsion, and more of a fractured sense of reality.” Reid commented. “It’s likely that the UnSub sees these corpses as pieces of art. It’s why he was frustrated when the first four weren’t found soon enough, that they weren’t discovered when they were… ‘fresh’, so to speak. That’s why he started leaving the clues for law enforcement. He wants his ‘art’ to be seen in a timely manner.”

“Couldn’t the guy just take up painting or something?” You replied, looking at the body, still slightly shocked by how brutal the whole thing was.

“Looks like we got another one.” Morgan pointed out, crouching down beside the body, motioning toward a large gash between the victim’s ribs. “Another clue, that is.”

For the last three victims, the UnSub had cut a hole into their torso and left some kind of object inside. Something small that hinted at where the next victim would be found.

Morgan looked over his shoulder at you, as though waiting for you to make a move. When you turned to Reid, he was looking over the rim of his coffee cup at you with very expectant eyes, the thick lenses of his glasses making his stare all the more imposing.

You quickly realized that both of the men wanted you to stick your hand inside the corpse and pull out whatever was inside.

“What?” You chuckled. “You want me to do it? Is it just cause you think I’m the gross one?”

Your reputation for having a strong stomach preceded you.

You were shy or squeamish about anything, socially or functionally, and the team often took advantage of this. They would throw you into an interrogation with a suspect who made crude comments and you would end up grossing the man out with even more graphic words. They would have you sifting through a suspect’s trash looking for receipts or pieces of evidence and sometimes you would laugh at the things you found, rather than gagging at the smell.

It was rare that anyone on the team saw you flinch.

“The body’s been sittin’ out here in the sun for three hours.” Morgan said, glancing from the corpse up to the bright sky overhead. “I’m not doin’ it.”

You chanced another look at Reid. The small smirk he wore told you that he wouldn’t have to give some lame excuse about how he was squeamish and had just eaten in order for you to truly give in.

“Ugh, fine.” You said.

You naturally met Reid’s hand when he came out of his pocket with a blue latex glove for you to wear. You put it on, switching places with Morgan so you could kneel down beside the body. You put your ungloved hand on the ground to support yourself, and then inserted your fingers into the cavity - the hole between the ribs that the UnSub had made.

Luckily, you didn’t have to reach too far inside before you felt something. Though, because of the slight decomposition of the body and the bloat from the sun beating down, you did have some trouble getting a good grip on the item to pull it out.

Naturally, your discomfort with the situation caused your dark sense of humor to act up. You needed the comfort and you barely thought about the odd joke before it left your lips.

“God, it’s like a fucking fleshlight in here,” You groaned, disgusted laced through your voice as you finally hooked your fingers around the object and managed to pull it out of the wound.

Morgan chuckled at the joke and held out an evidence bag for you (which he had gotten from one of the uniformed officers on the scene). Before any of you could truly analyze the item that you had just pulled out of the body cavity, a voice trampled over your thoughts as you dropped the item into the plastic bag.

“Don’t you mean flashlight?” Reid piped up, so eager to correct you, as always. “Also, how is that comparable?”

You looked up at Reid with awe.

For a moment, you wondered if he was fucking with you.

But the look of genuine confusion plastered across his features - something so rare for the certified genius. That look made you realize that he genuinely didn’t know what a fleshlight was. He had no idea what you were talking about.

Your insides tingled with glee at this realization.

Morgan sighed when he saw the look that you and Reid exchanged. You, wearing filthy, smug dawning and Reid painted entirely with cluelessness. He hated where the exchange was going, knowing how shameless you always were in conversation. He quickly tried to distract from the interaction.

“So, this looks like a horseshoe-” Morgan said, motionting to the object in the evidence bag.

“No, I meant fleshlight.” You said, quickly trampling over Morgan’s words. “F-L-E-S-H-L-I-G-H-T. Fleshlight. Do you not know what that means?”

This caused Morgan to sigh sharply and shake his head.

You took off the glove with a snap and tossed it away, happy to be rid of the smell.

You stood back to your full height, entirely intrigued by Reid’s continued confusion.

“It could represent luck. Maybe a casino?” Morgan tried in vain to distract the two of you from the conversation once again.

Maybe he was trying to preserve Reid’s naive innocence, something you were determined to dismantle piece by piece because it gave you intense joy to see the shock cross his features whenever you explained outrageous concepts to him. The time you had explained to him what a ‘blumpkin’ was, you hadn’t stopped laughing for hours when he could hardly believe you.

“The nearest casino is 45.6 miles away, it’s far outside the UnSub’s geographical comfort zone.” Reid said, quickly dismissing Morgan’s thread of conversation before he turned back to you. “And no, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Is it a coroner’s term?”

You let out a harsh snort at this. You had gotten a degree in mortuary science before you became a Profiler (likely something to thank for your strong stomach). But it was your other area of ‘study’ that made you an expert in this.

“No, honey, it’s not.” You quickly answered.

There was a slight flash through his features when you called him ‘honey’. You weren’t sure if it was shock or displeasure, but either way he quickly straightened his face and went back to intrigue. He stared at you with his full attention, ready for you to explain it to him. He was ready to learn and catalog the information in that big brain of his.

It was something you found entirely endearing.

“L/N, please, don’t-” Morgan begged you not to explain it any further, once again wanting to keep Reid in the dark.

Mostly, he wanted to save himself from the embarrassment of witnessing the interaction between the two of you.

“What?” You chuckled sharply, turning to Morgan. “There are some things the genius still needs to learn, apparently.”

Reid rolled his eyes at this. He didn’t want to admit that it was true.

“The other night I had to explain to him what the distinct difference between a Butt Dial and a Booty Call is,” You continued, giving an example to prove your point. “Because he walked into the bullpen and loudly announced to JJ and Elle that he was sorry that he booty called me at 3am and woke me up.”

Morgan choked on his laughter when you explained this.

“Dude, seriously?” He posed, raising a brow at Reid.

“I fell asleep with my phone in my back pocket when I was reading Voltaire.” Reid explained, a heavy blush falling over his cheeks. “I thought - I thought -”

“Okay, playboy, I’m gonna go call Hotch about this,” Morgan announced, motioning toward the evidence bag. “And I’m gonna pretend not to hear anything that’s happening over here.”

Morgan walked off to the car, and Reid turned to you with a defeated look cast over his features.

“I do appreciate when you explain these kinds of things to me.” He told you softly. “It… it saves me from future embarrassment.”

As much as you enjoyed the shock factor of watching Spencer’s innocence melt away when you explained such crude things so abruptly - that was also part of your motivation. You knew that as much as he was a genius - had stunning intellect on paper, could recite statistics by heart - he didn’t have the kind of social skills or social knowledge that you did.

“Do you really wanna know what I was talking about before?” You posed, giving him one last chance to preserve that innocence.

He nodded, ever thirsty to chase an unanswered question.

You held back a giggle.

“A fleshlight is also called a pocket pussy.” You told him, launching into a quick, efficient explanation for his confusion so that he could have his question answered.

“What?” He gaped, having the most beautifully dumb look on his face as the words left his lips.

“It’s a sex toy.” You told him.

His face scrunched even further into bewilderment, and you knew that now he was simply jumping through mental hoops, wondering what kind of sex toy a ‘pocket pussy’ could be. So you decided to make your explanation a bit more detailed.

“It’s a…” You thought for a moment about how to explain it to someone who had never seen one before. “A kind of tube? Usually in the shape of a large flashlight, and on the inside there’s a silicone vagina, or sometimes a silicone anus, and it’s meant to simulate intercourse the same way that a dildo can simulate intercourse by going into a vagina. Or an anus, of course. You do know what a dildo is, right?”

Reid quickly nodded his head - that bright flush even fresher on his cheeks as a deep thoughtfulness came over his features.

“Yeah. Y-yeah. I got it.” He quickly stuttered out, assuring you that he now fully understood.

“Cool.” You said, walking by him and thumping him on the shoulder for reassurance that the conversation was over.

“Wait, is that the hand that you - inside? You haven’t washed your hands yet!”

“I wore a glove, Reid!”

…

Turns out the horseshoe had a unique stamping on it from a closed down metalworks business. Four thousand square feet of abandoned building, perfect for the UnSub to make his ‘art’ inside. He had intended for the clue to lead the team to a barn where he had staged the next corpse, but you broke into the building and caught him in the act of drugging another woman before she was killed.

The state of the building was horrifying - the limbs of the other victims strewn about, a lot of them put on display like trophies.

Overall, you would call it a good day. There was a life saved.

On the way back home, Spencer could barely make eye contact with you while on the jet. His eyes constantly flickered away from you with purpose whenever you looked near him. The two of you played Gin Rummy and you had to remind Reid to take his turn several times. There was even one point where he won a hand and you had to tell him so - he claimed that he had ‘forgotten the rules’. As if.

You couldn’t figure out why he was acting so strangely. You wanted to chalk it up to the harshness of the case, the graphic nature of things - but you both had seen much worse. The ‘fleshlight’ conversation was so minimal on your radar, such a shameless moment for you. It was something you considered so entirely regular as an interaction on the rollercoaster of all things bizarre that was Spencer Reid. You were barely even thinking about it.

You had no clue that it was racing through his mind at top speed as he remembered your words from earlier that day.

…

Spencer couldn’t stop thinking about it.

He wasn’t sure why it had never occurred to him before. Sure, there were plenty of things he didn’t know, like you said. Plenty of things he was curious about, but far too shy to look up. Plenty of things he didn’t want to get caught looking up out of fear of embarrassment.

He knew some things about sex toys. He knew far more about the history of sex toys than he did about modern sex toys. He could tell you that Cleopatra had owned one of the first rudimentary vibrators, made from the shell of a hollowed out gourd filled with bees. But if he walked into a sex shop today, he probably wouldn’t know what half the stuff was or what it was used for.

When he thought about what you had told him, it only made sense.

Of course there would be some kind of solution, some kind of ‘opposite’ to a silicone penis used to simulate sex inside a vagina.

(“Or an anus, of course.”)

Those words flying out of your mouth so casually had sent Reid’s imagination flying into an array of interesting directions. Of course he knew that plenty of men liked to partake in anal stimulation for pleasure. There were no particular statistics about this that came to mind, because it was never something he had directly read a study about.

It was something Reid had always been curious about, because he did know that prostate stimulation was often considered to be the height of pleasure for men.

(Spencer’s attraction to men was a can of worms that he would leave untouched and attend to another day. The innate warmth that he felt when he looked at Morgan was something he always felt the need to suppress. Even though it was quite literally impossible for him, he was still trying to forget the involuntary reaction he had when he looked at a gay porn magazine that his classmates had left in his locker as a joke when he was thirteen.)

For the most part, his mind was hyper-fixating on your explanation of that object he had never even heard of before. The antithesis of a dildo, the supposed inversion of the male genitalia in a more portable form.

A pocket pussy.

You talked about it so casually, explained it so perfectly. You spoke about it in such a way that it left Reid’s mind whirring, wondering what such an object could specifically look like. Of course, he knew what a vagina looked like. In theory.

Yes, he was a virgin.

He actually wondered if he fit that definition exactly. He knew that most people considered virginity to be a milestone passed once they had participated in full blown intercourse for the first time. But he wondered if what he had done would ‘count’ as losing his virginity. It was something he would have asked you, would have wanted your social colloquial opinion on - if he wasn’t so embarrassed about being a virgin in the first place. (Or maybe being a virgin, he still wasn’t too sure.)

He had been touched by a woman before, but only once.

After he and Lila Archer had climbed out of the pool, before the team had arrived, she had kissed him on the mouth again and continued to thank him for his ‘bravery’ and ongoing protection in a very interesting way. And before he could truly process it or stop her (due to the intense unprofessionalism) - his pants were down and her mouth was on him. Because of his inexperience, it had lasted a whopping three minutes. (According to Spencer’s impeccable memory and the fact that he had been glancing between the top of her head and a clock on the wall, worried they would get caught, he knew for a fact that it had been three minutes and fourteen seconds to be exact.)

Which, at the time, was lucky. Because as she licked off her lips and looked up at him through her lashes, Morgan called out his name through the house, finally looking for them. He had rushed to straighten his clothes and look normal - but because Morgan caught them both looking incredibly guilty, he had hounded Reid for days about the ‘details’. Reid gave him none.

But that had been his only experience with a woman sexually. His only experience with anybody, for that matter. So any of his knowledge about vaginas was based entirely on pictures; scientific diagrams, and renaissance art. He was never gutsy enough to buy porn for himself.

He tried to imagine what a silicone vagina would look like - how one would fit molded into a plastic tube. He tried to imagine how it would feel to stick his penis into one.

Of course, he had plenty of experience with masturbation.

His instincts had taken over at the right age for that. Even though his brain was always advanced well beyond his years, puberty kicked in just the same. He had been a hormonal teenager just like everyone else. (Of course, he was the only one going to CalTech getting a PhD in chemistry, but he was right on track in terms of his physical development.)

And naturally, his imagination often ran away with him whenever he had the time alone to masturbate now that he was an adult.

One of the things he thought about most often when he masturbated was you.

The fact that you were so self-assured, so confident, the fact that nothing could shake you. It always made Spencer imagine you pinning him down, taking control of him, kissing him hard. He had orgasmed in his hand a great many nights, imagining you on top of him - imagining what you might feel like around him, on top of him, riding him.

He found it intensely difficult to pay attention to Gin Rummy when all of these thoughts were running through his mind.

…

You barely remembered the fleshlight conversation at all. Barely remembered it, that is, until you were on your way to work the next morning.

There was a small fender bender between two cars on your normal route and the traffic build-up around it caused you to deviate. Because of that, you just happened to drive by your favorite sex shop. The sign caught your eye, and you figured: you were already late. There was a great coffee place across the street. You could grab yourself a latte if you parked.

You were surprised that a sex shop would be open so early in the morning, but you were glad that you made the stop. Usually, you would have taken your time to browse. You liked to see what was new, especially in terms of costumes and lingerie.

You didn’t have a long term partner to impress, but sometimes you did like to strut around the house in lingerie (in your fleeting free time away from the BAU) just to make yourself feel good. That, and it was always fun to see the look on a date’s face when you gave the sensual promise of ‘slipping into something more comfortable’ and then came back in a latex nurse’s outfit and six inch red heels.

Unfortunately, today you were low on time and very set on what you wanted.

You went straight to the wall of toys and zoned in on the selection of fleshlights. You picked out the most ‘basic’ one you could find. You didn’t want to assume Spencer’s preferences, but you picked one that resembled a pussy rather than an ass.

It was on the expensive side, but you knew the look on Spencer’s face when you gave it to him would more than pay it off in your mind. That and imagining him using it, knowing that it would be far too tempting of a gift. He would never be brave enough to buy something like this for himself and once it was in his hands when he was alone, he would be far too curious not to use it - yeah, it was definitely worth it.

You walked past a rack of lube on your way to the cash register and realized that it would be rude to give this kind of gift without a bottle of lube in accompaniment. So you bought a bottle of your favorite water based lubricant. An unscented one, knowing that Spencer was a no-frills kind of guy, even though you usually bought a strawberry scented one for yourself.

You got the items put in a discreet, labelless black bag and then got yourself a latte. And you couldn’t help but to grab an almond croissant for Spencer because when you spotted it in the pantry case, you did think of him.

Of course, when you walked into the office (the black bag safely in the backseat of your car) Hotch just happened to be walking by with a handful of files on the way to his office.

“You’re late.” He commented, not looking up from the paper he was reading.

“Traffic was hell.” You fired back.

“Yeah, and I’m sure that latte just magically transported into your hand.” He said, his tone blank and unreadable as usual. “I want all your reports about the case on my desk by tonight.”

Usually, there was a grace period of two or three days to get the reports about a case done. But clearly, Hotch didn’t like your tardiness. You considered it worth it.

“Yes sir.” You mumbled under your breath.

He didn’t say anything else after that, simply retreated off to his office.

You figured he couldn’t be that mad. He knew the job could be an emotional strain, and it was okay to deviate from such a hard routine every now and then. Especially because now you were going to be spending the next five hours writing out all the gory details of how you had pulled a horseshoe out of a woman’s dead torso in order to catch a killer.

You walked over to your desk, which was right in front of Reid’s, and placed down the paper bag with the croissant on top of one of his files. This easily distracted him from whatever he had been writing - most likely one of his reports about the case.

“Almond croissant,” You said, placing down your coffee cup and placing your purse underneath your desk. “Your favorite, right?”

“It is.” He grinned at you. “Thank you.”

It was that sweet little smile, those big kind eyes staring up at you through the lenses of his glasses like you hung the stars in the sky - it was that bit of sweetness that got you through writing your reports. So yeah, it probably wasn’t just dark humor and nihilism that helped you keep your sanity. It had a lot to do with the pretty boy you got to sit across from every single day.

You worked on your reports. And yeah, you took too many coffee breaks, including a long lunch break with Elle, Penelope, and JJ where they insisted on discussing your ‘crush’ on Spencer.

You denied it.

Elle profiled your lie (which you insisted was not a lie) and JJ laughed about it. Penelope started humming wedding music under her breath and you threatened to spit in her salad.

By the time you actually got the reports done, it was late. Everyone else had gone home - except for Spencer, who was still sitting at his desk across from you with his lamp on and an air of quiet concentration. When you got finished with the last report, you slammed the file closed and let out a sigh, leaning back in your chair and running your hands harshly over your face.

“Finally done?” Spencer’s delicate voice inquired, peeking up over the median between the desks to look at you.

“Yes, finally.” You grinned back at him. “You done too?”

You couldn’t help but to ask. Spencer was always incredibly quick with his reports, simply by the nature of the speed at which he could read and compose writing. You wondered what exactly he had been doing at his desk for the past few hours. Perhaps he had been looking through old case files, possibly unsolved ones, thinking up new leads while there was no pressure looming over his brilliant mind.

“I finished up at three o’clock.” He said.

You glanced at your watch - it was getting close to nine. That made you entirely curious about what he had been doing, sitting at his desk for that many hours. What had he felt the need to stay so late for?

“So what has been keeping you busy this late into the night, Doctor?” You asked.

“I was reading.” He told you honestly, motioning toward a thick novel that he had in his hands.

“How many books do you have over there?” You chuckled.

Again, you knew that because of the intense speed he was capable of reading at, it would take a lot of books to keep him busy.

“Just one.” He answered, easily catching your eye and maintaining eye contact.

Both of you knew what this meant.

For a while, he had been rereading through old case files. But, not wanting to haunt himself with those gory details, he had chosen instead to simply sit at his desk and reread the same book over and over again because he had wanted to keep you company.

What you didn’t know was that his mind had still been heavily plagued by thoughts of your sex toy discussion from the other day, so he wasn’t exactly reading at lightning speed as per usual. Instead - letting his imagination wander, thinking about where he would get a silicone vagina if he wanted to buy one and if a toy would feel as good as yours. What yours would feel like around his penis if he ever got the minuscule chance to actually experience it.

“The Hollow Men by T. S. Eliot - but um, I was waiting for you, actually.” Spencer announced, making his intentions entirely clear, just in case you hadn’t already figured it out. “I was hoping maybe we could get dinner together? We haven’t - we haven’t hung out in a while.”

He seemed nervous asking you this, even though you were always enthusiastic in welcoming his invitations to spend time together outside of work.

Last month, he had brought you to a conservatory housing and actively breeding endangered species of butterflies in order to save the populations from extinction. It was a building full of plant life, an indoor jungle filled with the beautiful insects that took your breath away. Listening to him ramble on about the different species and their latin names, the patterns on their wings and their purpose of camouflage - it had been one of the most pleasant, most romantic non-dates of your life.

You didn’t understand why others on the team acted like his presence, especially his ramblings, could be a bother.

“Sounds good.” You told him with a smile.

He smiled back at you fondly.

“I have to drop these on Hotch’s desk and then we can go.” You explained as you stood up and began gathering your files. “But uh, I don’t really feel like going out? I’m way more in the mood for take-out and a comfy couch.”

“There’s a good Chinese place a few minutes away from my apartment.” He told you. “If you consider my couch comfortable?”

You resisted the urge to tell him that you loved his apartment because the smell of books penetrated every inch of it; the scent of yellowing, worn paper living there like the comfort of a library. But you held that back - choosing instead to say something else.

“The comfiest,” You grinned at him as you walked by with the armful of files.

…

You weren’t entirely sure when you were going to give the ‘gifts’ to Spencer.

A large part of you thought that it would be best to have an out, in case he got embarrassed, or hated it. Most likely, you would wait until after dinner and hand him the bag on your way out without telling him what it was. Which was why you shoved the black plastic bag holding the lube and the sex toy into your oversized purse while Spencer was distracted with carrying the takeout bag toward his apartment.

One thing that had not surprised you about Spencer when you found it out: he didn’t have basic cable. Part of you was surprised that someone who was so pro-book and anti-technology even had a TV at all. But apparently he had some favorites that he couldn’t stand to miss out on, like Doctor Who and Star Wars. So he had a DVD player hooked up to a very small TV that was banished off to a corner of his living room. A device that was dwarfed by bookcases, which did make a lot of sense.

He said that he spent so much time reading and away at work, traveling for cases that it just didn’t make sense to pay for cable. He said that he could get his mental enrichment from reading, and his nerdy pleasure from rewatching his old favorites, and apparently he got the news from listening to the radio. The radio. Sometimes you wondered if he was Benjamin Button - an old man who had somehow gotten into the body of a twenty five year old. It truly mystified you.

Either way, it meant that you spent dinner with season three of Friends on as background noise. Friends being a box set of DVDs that you had gifted him because you considered it to be classic television that he needed to see. The first time he had asked Morgan to his face if a girl had ‘friendzoned’ him with full confidence in what the term meant, you knew that Spencer had been watching it in his free time.

You easily fell into the comfort of your surroundings, enjoying the comforting canned laughter of the show, paired with the delightfully greasy food and Spencer’s ongoing commentary - both about the show, and about other, completely unrelated things. You were so relaxed that you had almost completely forgotten about the gift you had waiting in your bag for him.

It was such a strange coincidence that he had been the one to bring it up.

He offered to take your plate into the kitchen, leaving behind a waft of soy sauce as he went. You were wonderfully full and reached to the small side table where you were nursing a half empty (now warm) diet coke. You took a few sips from it, and heard Spencer’s footsteps shuffling back into the room. He hovered behind you as you watched Monica rush out of her bedroom with her phone pressed to her chest, concerned about calling Richard.

You were so focused on the show that you almost didn’t hear Spencer’s shy, tentative voice when he spoke.

“I’m sorry about the other day.” He said quietly.

“Hmm?” You looked over your shoulder at him, wondering what he meant.

He was rather nervously fidgeting with his hands, standing in the white glow of the TV in the dimly lit room - the only other source of light being a small lamp on the side table and dimness of the light above the stove shining in from the kitchen at his back.

You grabbed up the remote and paused the show, silencing the characters and their temporary problems in order to address the stress that Spencer was very clearly feeling - his whole body tight, hunched over, his face quite tight with worry.

“I’m sorry about the other day.” He repeated himself, slightly louder this time - perhaps not more confident, but simply not drowned out by any further noise.

You didn’t want to butt in, and gave him the room to explain himself slowly.

“I - I didn’t mean to put you in such an… uncomfortable position. If I don’t understand the things you say, I should just pull you aside and ask you privately what you meant.” He sighed. “I - I know that I need to learn to keep my mouth shut sometimes. It’s something I’m working on.”

You became flooded with peril at this. Had he really thought that he had inconvenienced you? Put you in an ‘uncomfortable’ position?

“Come sit down.” You told him, beginning to feel annoyed with craning your neck back to get a proper look at him.

Like a dog being beckoned, he couldn’t help but to follow your order.

He sunk down against the other arm of the three seater couch, leaving quite a bit of space between the two of you. He had his arms folded - closed off, clearly nervous. His eyes were focused on the leg of his pants, distinctly refusing to look at you. Perhaps he was afraid he would find disgust or disappointment among your features. You turned off the TV completely then and angled your body to face him before you continued speaking.

“First of all, you don’t need to learn to keep your mouth shut.” You told him easily. “I’m not sure who, or what gave you that impression, but it’s not true. Whenever you open your mouth, something brilliant comes out, and we’re all better for it.”

Reid’s lips flexed into a smile at the intense direct praise, and this made you happy.

“Second, you didn’t make me uncomfortable the other day.” You told him honestly. “I meant what I said - despite you being a genius, there are still some things you need to learn. And I’m more than happy to teach you.”

These words sent a shiver down Spencer’s spine.

There were so many things that he would beg for you to teach him if given the chance. But he didn’t want to embarrass himself. And most importantly, he didn’t want to come off as creepy or desperate toward someone as perfect as you.

When he dared to glance up at you, you were boldly staring him down. You wore a small smirk across your face. Heat began to stir in Spencer’s gut, and he couldn’t help but to wonder if you were thinking the exact same things that he was.

You couldn’t be. You couldn’t possibly want someone like him. You couldn’t possibly want a nervous, inexperienced ‘virgin’ like him.

Oh, but you did.

You were thinking all of the same things that he was. You were imagining giving him the most intricate ‘hands on’ lessons for everything he had ever been curious about. Giving him the most close-up, detailed tour of the female anatomy he ever could have asked for.

“Spencer,” You called out his name gently.

This forced his attention up from fiddling with a loose thread on the edge of the couch cushion - clearly something out of nervousness - and got him to look at your face. You wondered how someone who was six feet tall could look so delicately small, purposefully slumped over in his seat like that. You wondered what his pretty features would look like warped by an orgasm.

“What are you thinking about right now?” You asked him. You had to know if he was truly on the same filthy wavelength as you.

He knew he had to make up a lie. Because he wouldn’t be brave enough to speak the words out loud. He was too shy to actually tell you that he was wondering what it would be like to bury his face between your breasts, that he wanted to drown there.

“You… you did get me curious.” Spencer admitted quietly. “About the… the - uh-”

He trailed off, clearly too nervous to say the word for himself now that he knew the filthy implications behind it.

“About the fleshlight?” You finished the sentence for him, wanting to encourage him.

You wanted to make him feel brave about the topic. You were too curious about where this interaction was heading - you couldn’t bear to have him get shy on you now.

“Yeah.” He nodded, nervously clearing his throat.

He went back to fidgeting with the edge of the couch cushion, once again purposefully looking anywhere but at your face. You stared him down with purpose, all too intrigued by whatever might come out of his mouth next. Especially with the tense, thoughtful expression dipped along his eyebrows - the same one he got when he was reading or staring at maps.

“I was thinking - I was curious - curious about - about where someone might get one of those.” He finally announced.

He put intense stress on the word ‘where’ - his voice low, almost a lulling whisper in the already quiet apartment. He was speaking as though he was asking you about something incredibly illicit. Like a college kid asking where he could buy weed or a lonely man in his thirties inquiring about a prostitute. Though sex toys were perfectly legal, you guessed that for someone like Spencer, this was just as trepidacious.

You felt a sense of eager giddiness stir within you. You resisted the urge to bounce on the spot like an excitable, hyper kid on their birthday waiting to open their present. Even though he wasn’t looking at your face, you forced yourself to hold back a grin.

You didn’t want to ruin the surprise, after all. It was just too perfect.

“Well… lucky for you, Doctor Reid,” You told him, easily capturing his attention with the use of his proper title and the fact that you shifted slightly in your seat, reaching down by your feet to grab your bag. “I happen to have a spare one right here.”

Spencer watched you cautiously, his neck still sloped with anxious shyness. He almost had to believe that this was a prank, and you would pull a tape recorder out of your bag and laugh because you had captured his perversion for everyone to know about.

But of course - you weren’t that cruel. You were honest, and you were definitely not half as shy as he was. In fact, he would go so far as to say that you didn’t have a bashful bone in your body.

So of course, it made sense that it was not a big deal for you to walk into one of those stores and simply purchase that kind of toy.

Spencer watched eagerly as you pulled out a cardboard box. He heard the rustle of plastic inside your bag and guessed that it was a shopping bag. But he couldn’t be too focused on that once your arm extended out to him, showing him what the rectangular box was.

Spencer had never seen a sex toy in person before, but he quickly realized that they were packaged similarly to any other product. A clean, white background with a picture of the product on it, several claims and promises (‘new and improved design!’) (‘easy to clean!’) (‘soft and durable!’) - and a picture of someone smiling on the front, unconsciously promising a good user experience. In this case, it was a stereotypically beautiful woman in lingerie holding the… item, as though it were comparable… to her… to her parts.

“Open it.” You encouraged him, wagging the box in his direction. “Unless you don’t want it. I could return it.”

It was then that Spencer realized he had been sitting with his hands numbly in his lap for several silent moments, staring at the box in your extended hand.

“Oh!” He said quietly. “No! I mean - yes. I - um.” Rather than trying to articulate it, he reached out and grabbed the item, finding it surprisingly heavy. It easily compared to the weight of a good book in his hands. “Thank you.”

You would be lying if you said that watching him inspect the sex toy as though it were an object from an alien planet wasn’t the hottest thing you had seen in your entire life. Doctor Reid approached this the same way that he approached everything else in life: with intense scrutiny. Clearly his analytical mind was working hard as he carefully peeled back the cardboard flap of the box and slid out his prize.

You had to wonder if that mind of his ever shut off.

You wondered if you could make him dumb and cum drunk, make his head completely empty. You wondered what he would look like mindlessly chasing an orgasm, begging for release with absolutely no statistics or scientific papers running around inside that big brain of his. You wanted to see him completely worn down, just his base instincts at play. You wanted to see him with just the need to fuck and cum and have his release pounding between his ears as he whined desperately for more.

There was a sharp pain between your legs, intense arousal at the thought of it.

That arousal only increased when Spencer dropped the box in his lap and then - like man walking on the moon for the first time - he held the toy delicately in one hand and popped the cap off with the other. Clearly, it was a big discovery for him. Watching his eyes widen with shock did bring you an intense joy. It also immediately made you wonder if seeing the silicone pussy was his first time seeing a pussy so up close and personal at all. That thought only made your own cunt throb with need.

What he did next nearly sent you into orbit.

He gently placed the cap down on his lap, and without looking at you, his thoughtful eyes still entirely focused on the fake pussy - he reached toward it and oh-so-gently stroked his fingers across it. From your perspective, with the angle he was holding it at, you had a perfect view of his gorgeous hand delicately exploring the toy. Your cunt fluttered, clenching around nothing, and you knew that at this point you were definitely sitting in soaked underwear. If you didn’t know Spencer any better, you would have guessed that he was doing this on purpose, to tease you.

But that’s what made it so perfect - he was just naive, just exploring these things for the first time.

When he dipped two of his fingertips into the opening of the toy, you had to consciously hold back a moan. It was almost too hot watching his strong, thick fingers get swallowed up by the soft entrance of the toy. Of course, imagining how those fingers would feel dipping into your pussy with such tender grace.

“Wow.” Spencer said quietly, almost a gasp under his breath as he pulled his fingers back, in pure awe at this new discovery. “I didn’t expect it to be so soft.”

“It’ll feel even better when it’s wet.”

The words came so naturally from your lips, you couldn’t have stopped them if you tried.

Spencer looked up at you with a distinct pinkness spreading over his cheeks, clearly imagining that tight, soft wetness wrapped around his cock.

You dared to take a glance downward and surely enough - beside where the empty box was sitting in his lap, a bulge was forming in his slacks, pressing harshly against the zipper. You deeply resisted the urge to reach over and grope that bulge, not wanting to scare him by coming on too strong. Instead, you put that grabby hand back into your purse to get the other thing you had to give to him.

“Another lesson for the genius,” You announced, extending out the bottle of lube for him to see it. This time he was quicker to grab it, bringing it up to his face to inspect it with thoughtful eyes. “Water based lubricant is best. It’s water soluble, so it’s easy to clean up. And unlike other kinds, it won’t wear down the silicone of the toy over time or wear through the latex of condoms.”

You bringing up condoms caused a jolt in Spencer’s chest. Were you just giving him some friendly advice about safe sex or - or did you actually intend to have intercourse with him? Would there be a need for condoms between the two of you in the future?

The words gave him a temporary bold streak (that and the sexual adrenaline pumping through his system) and he decided to voice his thoughts before he became too shy.

“Can I ask you something?” He asked quietly, his voice taking on that sweet, mousy quality that it usually did whenever he got nervous.

“Of course.” You nodded.

You thought that he might have more questions about the lube or the toy. But what he said next - combined with the fact that he looked at you shyly through his lashes like a doll, like he knew exactly what he was doing - absolutely knocked the wind out of you.

“You… You said that you like teaching me things. So - do you think-?”

He paused for a moment, clearing his throat.

“Could - could you give me a demonstration?” He asked, his voice still shy and sweet.

Your lips gaped in shock - at first you thought you had misheard him. And when the words fully penetrated your ears, you thought that you had somehow misunderstood him. He couldn’t possibly mean-? He wanted you to use the toy on him?

You were shocked that Spencer Reid was openly asking for something like that.

Seeing the shock and slight confusion across your features, Spencer’s mouth raced past his better judgment. His lips plowed over that thing in the back of his brain nagging at him to shut up - and he kept on going.

“It only seems logical that, when tackling something new, especially something this… skill-based, I would need to be shown what to do.” He explained, his mouth running off in that way it always did when he sounded far too much like he knew what he was talking about. “It seems advisable to be shown by someone with more experience. Experience that I don’t have. I need you to show me. Please.”

The last word came out as a breathy plea from him. You could have easily gotten stuck on the fact that he had basically just admitted to you that he was a virgin. But instead, him simply saying that word: ‘please’, begging to you like your attention was the most precious thing in the world; it kickstarted something in your brain and switched on the dominant persona that you had always wanted to use with him.

The air shifted in the room then, and you both knew it. It was like a fire crackling around you. Spencer didn’t know what to do with it, but luckily, you did. He waited with anxious breath for your guidance, your instruction.

“You need me to show you?” You repeated his words, using the buttery sweet voice that you usually did when you had someone so willing and pliant for you.

Instinctively, you reached over to him and gently cupped his cheek. He easily leaned into the touch, shuddering with delight and letting out a small sigh as you made contact with his skin for the first time. It was the first time you had really touched him, aside from casual hugs of comfort after stressful situations that the job naturally gave the two of you. But this was entirely different.

He hummed in affirmation to answer your question, his eyes growing large with lust, pupils blown out as he melted into you.

“What do you want me to show you, pretty boy?” You asked, running your thumb along his bottom lip, admiring how absolutely pink his mouth was.

You hoped that you could prompt a genuine answer out of him - get him to say the words. You had never heard Spencer talk about anything crude before, and you wondered if he was even capable of talking dirty. You hoped that if he wouldn’t say the words on his own, you could coach him into doing it. You could only imagine the satisfaction of getting that smart mouth to utter such filthy things.

“I want…” Spencer swallowed harshly, clearly having a difficult time with his mouth drying out now that you had a hand on him, even though the touch was fairly ‘innocent’. “I want you to show me… everything.”

The intense emphasis that he put on the word sent sparks flying inside of you.

It sounded like he wanted a lot more than just a ‘demonstration’ of the toy. It sounded like he wanted a lot more than just a one night stand to get off.

Intense want flared up of you.

The temptation to own him, to make him yours… the temptation to take all of his first and have him tied to you like a lost puppy because of it - it was an intense one. But you wouldn’t hurt him, no. You would do it right. You would own him in that way because he wanted it just as badly as you did.

“Spencer,”

You said his name suddenly, harconing for his attention with it. You stroked your thumb along his cheek before you pulled the touch away completely. His head bobbed forward slightly to chase your hand, but he let you go without protest.

“If we’re going to do this, there has to be rules.” You told him firmly. “If I’m going to be your teacher, you have to listen to me. Teachers need rules, right?”

Spencer nodded vigorously at this.

“Of course. Yeah - yeah. You’re right.” He eagerly agreed. Then of course, he asked the obvious question. “What are the rules?”

You beamed a smile at him, loving his enthusiasm.

You knew that he would be a good boy. He was so eager to follow rules, to learn. Your body began tingling with delight at the thought of him looking up at you with hazy eyes, asking for his next command.

You had to forcibly clear your head. Right now you had to be level headed in order to teach him the rules.

“Okay the first rule - the most important one,” You prefaced, causing Spencer to straighten up slightly, showing his attentiveness, an eager student ready to learn. “Is that you need to pick a safeword. A word you can say during the scene so that I can know if you’re uncomfortable or if you need to stop.”

“‘The scene’?” Spencer asked, repeating back the phrase to you. “Also - why can’t the safeword just be ‘stop’, or ‘no’? Wouldn’t you just stop things if I said ‘no’?”

You decided to tackle his questions one at a time.

“Calling it a ‘scene’ - it’s lingo.” You said. “You know that everything comes with its own set of linguistics.” You told him, playing into his pre-existing knowledge. He nodded at this.

You then continued your explanation.

“A ‘scene’ means… any type of sexual play. Some people call it ‘playtime’. It’s lingo that exists because for a lot of people, sex is much more than just intercourse. It can start with speech and behavior and any interactions that they have with their partner when they’re alone. Like foreplay. So a safeword needs to be included in those moments too, in case someone needs to call timeout.”

Spencer nodded at this. It made him wish that he had developed a safeword with Lila Archer. Not because he hadn’t enjoyed the oral sex - but because to this day, he still shuddered at the possibility of being embarrassed by someone walking in on them, or the consequences if someone found out about the improprieties of it all.

“As far as the safeword being ‘no’, or ‘stop’…” You took the time to find the right words to explain it.

Spencer waited patiently, feeling curious about this.

“I will always look out for your safety, and if you seem uncomfortable, I’ll ask you if you’re okay.” You assured him, giving him a gentle pat on the knee. Spencer smiled at this, and you enjoyed that you had comforted him with these words.

“But sometimes ‘no’ doesn’t work.” You went on to explain. “Like… if I asked you something like ‘do you want me to stop?’ and you say ‘no’, that is a positive affirmation to continue what I’m doing, but it uses a negative word. Same thing with the word ‘stop’. If you told me ‘don’t stop’ - but your voice was too quiet on the first word or I didn’t properly hear you, then I may stop when you wouldn’t want me to.”

For the first time, Spencer felt as though he was the one being schooled.

You telling him ‘I may stop when you don’t want me to’ had him drawing an image up in his head of you vigorously riding him, taunting him while you were so well composed and he was reduced to a stuttering mess because of your wetness clenching around him. With you mistaking his words for a signal of distress, and taking away your beautiful body before he got to orgasm. It would be tragic.

He easily understood what you meant.

“The point of a safeword,” You continued on. “Is that it stands out. It’s a word you would never otherwise say during playtime. A word that would never come up during sex - except for you signaling your discomfort. So when I hear that word, I know that we need to shift gears into aftercare.”

“What’s aftercare?” Spencer asked, eager to learn another new term as it was introduced to him.

Again, you were puzzled about how to explain it, how to put it into words for someone who had no clue what the word meant.

These were things you had known about for years, words that were a natural part of your vocabulary now. Things you had been doing before you even knew the terms for it. It was strange having to explain it to someone so fresh.

“It - um…” You thought for a moment. “Aftercare is what happens after a scene. It’s the period of time when you mentally and physically wind down, in order to take care of your body and mind. Because of the physical exertion and the endorphins, sex can be exhausting and mentally tedious, as much as it is fun. So - aftercare helps transition the body and mind back into non-sexual activities. Different people need different kinds of aftercare, but usually it’s things like: drinking water, eating a snack, cuddling, words of affirmation.”

“That sounds nice.” Spencer said quietly. “Would you do that for me even - even though I’m not your boyfriend?”

You held back what you instinctively wanted to say - that you wanted him to be your boyfriend. That you wanted to own him like a cute little pet and didn’t want any other woman (or man) to touch him.

Instead, you went with the diplomatic answer.

“Of course I would.” You told him. “Aftercare is part of being a good - a good teacher.”

You quickly cut yourself off from using the word ‘dominant’ and replaced it with ‘teacher’ instead. You didn’t want to scare him with the idea that you would be intimidating, mean, cold - traditional ideas behind the term ‘dominant’.

“I want to be good to you, Spence.” You quickly added on.

His cock throbbed inside of his pants at this.

“So, you have to pick your safeword.” You told him. “Something that stands out, something that will easily come to your mind.”

Spencer took a moment, and you saw him take a sideways glance at the coffee table. The chess set that was there caught his eye, and that didn’t surprise you.

“Bishop?” Spencer posed, looking at you with eyes that said he was absolutely searching for your approval. “Is that good?”

“Yes, baby, that’s perfect.” You told him.

If you did your job well enough as a dominant, then he wouldn’t need to use the word.

You would be able to tell just by his body language and him voicing his enjoyment how far you should take things. And when he was comfortable enough, you would discuss other sexual acts, and what else you should try. Though, for tonight, you had a feeling you should take control without telling him too much of what you wanted to do. You didn’t need him getting shy on you just because of some dirty talk.

“You said that was only the first rule,” Spencer mentioned, remembering what you had said. “What are the other rules?”

“Well, the second rule is: you listen to me. You listen to everything I say. You do everything I say. You don’t question me.” You told him firmly. “Because I’m the teacher, I’m in charge.”

Spencer wanted to question you then. He wanted to point out that this sounded like multiple rules, but the way you said ‘I’m in charge’ caused something inside of him to quake, and he easily fell under your authority.

He nodded.

“The next rule is: you speak when spoken to, Spencer.” You told him, your tongue sharp on the words.

You were heavily enjoying ordering him around now.

These were two roles that the two of you fell so naturally into: he was soft and submissive under your dominant energy, and he only wanted more as your ego thrived off his eager submission. It was the start of a beautiful relationship forming.

“Yes.” He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” The title came flying out of his mouth before he could stop it, and then he instantly wanted to backpedal. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I like that.” You told him with a grin. “Though, if you want to give me a title, call me Miss.”

You held back from telling him the true title you desired. Again, not wanting to scare him away. Perhaps it was something you could ween him towards on another day.

“Yes, Miss.” He corrected, nodding. “Uh - Miss? Is - is there anything else?”

“Only two more things.” You told him. Of course, you didn’t want to overload him, but you wanted him to know your most important rules up front. He looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to explain. “You can’t touch me without asking first. And of course, you can’t touch me unless I give you permission.”

This news cast the saddest puppy look across his features. Clearly, he was deeply disappointed by the thought that he wouldn’t be able to grope and grab at your body freely. He was upset by the thought that you would deny him access to touching you. You could definitely use that if he ever misbehaved.

“And the last thing is: you can’t cum without my permission.” You told him, almost as if it were an afterthought. With any of your other partners, it would have been. Because it would have been a basic ground rule.

“Come where?” Spencer asked, his brows knit together in the most adorably confused manner you had seen yet.

Of course, he was confused. He had never before heard someone use the term ‘cum’ to refer to an orgasm. He was used to hearing that word - ‘come’ - paired with something else like ‘come here’. So he wondered what the hell you possibly meant by it.

You found yourself grinning like the cat who ate the canary as you realized that you would also have to explain this piece of slang to him.

“No, Spence, not C-O-M-E, like the verb. It’s C-U-M. It’s slang used interchangeably with the word ‘orgasm’.” You explained to him. “Sometimes it can be a verb. Like the act of cumming, it means orgasming. Or sometimes it’s a noun. Sometimes people use the word ‘cum’ instead of saying semen. ‘Cum’ is the fluid. As in: ‘I want your cum inside of me’.”

You intentionally teased him with this example, saying it as casually as a straight forward grammar lesson, looking him in the eyes the entire time. His eyes lit up at your words - obviously, he had no clue that such a simple sentence could turn him on so much. But the words immediately painted a picture in his mind of that white, sticky fluid dripping down your inner thighs, put there by him. It was so perfect that it almost made him dizzy.

When Spencer didn’t say anything, you continued with your ‘lesson’.

“When I said that you can’t cum without my permission, I meant that you can’t have an orgasm unless I say so.” You told him with finality.

He looked struck with worry at this. Partially at the idea that he wouldn’t get to have an orgasm if you didn’t give him permission, and partially at the thought that if he accidentally orgasmed without your permission, you would be angry with him and cut off all further sexual contact.

“What’s wrong, Spence?” You had to ask.

“How - how does that work?” He asked, all too curious at how he could stop himself from orgasming or how he could get your permission first.

“Well, you know what it feels like when you’re about to have an orgasm, right?” You asked, really hoping that he at least masturbated regularly. You didn’t think you could have the burden of giving him his first ever orgasm. He nodded and this and you felt a small breath of relief leave you. “So, when you feel like that, you simply ask me if you’re allowed to cum. Ask me if you can cum.”

“Will you let me?” Spencer asked nervously, sheepishly. You distinctly noticed how he avoided the word. He didn’t say the sentence as you had. You yearned to hear him say ‘will you let me cum?’ - but you knew you had to give him time to shake off his shyness.

“If you’ve been a good boy, then yes.” You told him. “Good boys follow the rules. But I don’t think you’ll have any problems, Spence.”

You saw him relax at this - any tension leaving his muscles.

You conveniently left out the part where you might edge him, might not let him cum just for your own amusement.

“I think that’s all for now.” You told him. “Now that we have the rules set - do you wanna play with your new toy?”

Spencer’s face absolutely lit up at this.

“Yes, please.” He said, his voice somehow still shy and quiet. “Yes, please, Miss.”

Your stomach jolted with intense pleasure at his declaration.

Spencer thought that you would simply grab the toy from him and unzip his pants. He was surprised when you stood up, and began looking around the room as though you were looking for something. But in alignment with the rules, he didn’t question you. He didn’t ask what you were looking for or why. Instead, he just sat there quietly and waited for your instructions.

When you seemed satisfied with your idea, you then began moving around. You leaned down and pushed away the coffee table, pushing it as far back as it would go. This made a fair amount of space in front of the couch. And before Spencer could become truly curious about it, you turned to the side of the room - toward a space where he had a small table.

It was meant to be a sort of ‘dining’ table, suitable for one or two people in an apartment like his. It had two chairs, but one of the chairs was piled up with books and the surface of the table had some files on it that he had taken home from work. He did sit on the other chair to eat occasionally - during the rare times he actually sat down and had a meal at home.

You grabbed the empty chair - which was a wooden chair with a round back and decorative wooden bars coming off the seat, holding the back of it up. (Something Spencer had picked up at a yard sale.) And then you put the chair in the middle of the room, right in the space you had cleared from moving the coffee table. The chair was facing the couch - and it became apparent to Spencer then that this was a stage.

You were either going to sit in that chair and watch him, or he was going to be the thing on display in the middle of the room. The idea of that happening - the idea of you watching him like a show, like he was something to admire - that put a twist in his stomach. It was something almost too daunting for him to conquer. He found himself swelling with shyness again, wanting to back down from this.

He feared that he wouldn’t be able to impress you. He feared that he was gangly, thin, undesirable. He feared that his experience would steer him wrong somewhere and he would mess up terribly and turn you off.

He thought that he wouldn’t be able to impress you.

But he wanted to impress you so badly. He wanted you. He wanted your touch. He wanted to be a good boy for you, like you had said.

“Give me your belt.” You said, turning to him expectantly and holding out your hand.

“My - my belt?” He asked.

Then, he immediately scolded himself inside as he realized that was questioning you, and against the rules.

You let that one slide. He was still getting used to this, and it must have been an odd, confusing instruction to hear right off the bat.

“Yes, your belt. I need it.” You said, still holding out your hand. “Come on.”

Spencer stood up then, his hands and legs shaking slightly from nerves and the overwhelming lust. Although he was taller than you, he felt so entirely small as you stared at him, waiting patiently while his shaking hands struggled to undo the buckle and then slip the leather out of the belt loops.

When he finally handed it over to you, you took the belt in hand and inspected it for a moment before you quietly said ‘perfect’ under your breath. You then looked between Spencer and the chair - he was still wearing his work attire. A cardigan, a button up shirt and tie, his usual slacks, and his adorable dorky glasses. He had taken off his shoes at the door, revealing his oddly sweet mismatched socks.

“Spencer,”

You called his name, capturing his attention from where he was swaying on the spot, nervously fidgeting with the buttons on his cardigan to avoid looking at you. As soon as he looked up at you with those big, wet eyes, you felt confident in giving him your next instruction.

“I want you to take off all your clothes. Except for your glasses and your socks.” You told him, giving him his first proper orders.

He held his voice in his throat when he felt the need to question you about it, to ask you why.

You wanted him to keep the glasses on because they brought an entirely dorky charm to him - you wanted to see if they would fog up when he became heated with lust. The socks? You thought they were cute, but it was mostly a test to see how closely he would follow the instructions. To test how well he would listen.

He did as he was told. He stripped off his sweater, and then his tie, and then his watch, leaving his wrists nice and bare for you. His fingers began to shake slightly as he descended on the buttons of his shirt - clearly, he was feeling nervous once again, so you decided to give him some encouragement.

“You’re being such a good boy, Spence.” You told him. “So good for me.”

He let out a quiet breath at the praise - a precursor to a moan. It was something that compelled him to strip faster, and gave him a small boost of courage when reaching for the zipper of his pants. After he unzipped them - his erection clearly fighting to be freed of the fabric - your mouth began watering at the sight as he reached for the waistband of his pants and his underwear all at once and slid them down.

A snake of surprising length popped out of his pants. His dick began bobbing around carelessly, smearing shiny precum all over his skin as he unhooked himself from the legs of his pants and put them aside.

You had to marvel at it.

You had never really thought about what Spencer might look like naked before. You had never allowed your mind to venture there. But now that you were seeing his cock: nine inches long, skinny and lean like he was, pale with a bright pink tip, sprouting from a thick thatch of dark pubic hair - it just made sense. He was tall and gangly, and so was his cock. It would be an impressive sword to impale yourself upon - but that would be for another day.

Spencer caught you staring, of course.

He had the urge to cover himself with his hands, and found himself clenching his fists by his sides because he figured that you wouldn’t like him trying to hide from you.

He wondered if it looked weird. He wondered if you didn’t like it. He wondered-

“You’re beautiful, Spencer.” You said, your voice so drenched in utter sincerity that you almost broke into a gasp trying to get the words out. “So fucking beautiful.”

Again, he wanted to question you - but didn’t. He wanted to be a good boy. He would follow the rules.

“Th-thank you, Miss.” He muttered out quietly, almost unable to accept the compliment.

“Come here, sit down.” You told him, motioning toward the chair.

He nodded, his legs feeling rather numb as he moved to follow your instructions. When his ass made contact with the wooden surface of the chair, he let out a gasp at how cool it was compared to his heated skin. You quietly giggled at this, and then grabbed the belt from where you had put it down. He grew tense and curious once again when you walked behind him.

You grabbed one of his wrists and began to guide it behind him, but he was so tense that you knew it would be uncomfortable for him. You eased your touch with a flat palm up his forearm and bicep, across his shoulder until you could press the weight of your thumb into the base of his neck. He moaned lightly at this, melting into the touch.

“Relax, baby.” You urged. Spencer relaxed even further at the nickname, absolutely blooming with affection inside because of it. “I’m not gonna do anything to hurt you. I just want to make you feel good.”

To drive home this point, you leaned in and planted a simple kiss on the back of his head, and then one on the side of his neck. Spencer let out a fluttering moan at this. He wanted more of those kisses, but he couldn’t work up the nerve to ask for it.

He could find no faults with what you had said, so he did his best to do as you instructed. He relaxed, leaning back fully against the chair - which was slightly uncomfortable while he was completely naked and throbbing hard, waiting for you to touch him more. But he trusted you.

You grabbed one of his wrists, and then the other, and guided them behind his back.

It was much easier now that his muscles were softer, more pliant to you.

You knelt down and used the belt to tie them simply. You looped the belt through the wooden slats so his hands would be held to the chair, and then placed both of his wrists into the loop. You didn’t want it to be so tight that the material would cut into his wrists painfully or cut off circulation, you just wanted to restrict his movement.

Which would absolutely be the case when his arms were bound behind him, awkwardly tied to the back of the chair. You hooked the buckle into the smallest notch, giving him a bit of room to move, a bit of a gap to put your finger between the belt and his skin. However, it put his shoulders at an awkward angle so he would need your help getting out of it.

“Is that okay?” You asked. “Not too tight? Be honest.”

Spencer thought that he should feel slightly afraid or too vulnerable - being completely naked and tied to a chair like this. But with you, he felt safe.

“It’s good.” He told you honestly. “Not too tight.” He assured you, moving to show off that wiggle room, demonstrating that the material wasn’t cutting into his wrists.

“Good,” You sighed quietly, standing up once again.

You walked around him like a predator circling their prey, making graceful, careful moments as you took in the sight of him.

He was absolutely, beautifully sinful in this state.

Stripped entirely naked, except for those glasses and those adorable, mismatched socks, sitting in the chair with his hands bound behind his back. All while he stared at you with his wide, expectant eyes, waiting for whatever your next move would be. While his heavy, hard cock leaked freely against his stomach, smearing a trail of sticky precum across his skin.

You reached forward and grabbed his chin, tilting his head up slightly to look at you. Having someone as tall as Spencer look up at you for a change was entirely powerful. You held him there while you asked him a very important question.

“You gonna be good for me?” You asked him.

Instinctively for him, there was only one answer.

“Yes.” He whimpered out. “Yes, Miss. I want to be good for you.”

The pure sincerity of his declaration caused another wave of wetness from your aching pussy. For now, you would ignore your own needs. You would take care of him, make sure that this was a pleasurable experience for him.

“Good boy,” You praised him, giving him a light kiss on the forehead - to which he sighed quietly in delight.

Then, you let go of his face completely and turned to grab the item that had started this whole thing.

You were excited to finally use it on Spencer.

Spencer watched with awe and intrigue as you grabbed the toy and then the lube - you peeled off the plastic shrink wrap on the lube bottle with your teeth, and then popped the cap. And you turned so Spencer could see as you poured a generous amount of lube into the opening of the toy.

“Don’t be afraid to use too much lube,” You told him, being a proper teacher. “In my opinion, there’s no such thing as ‘too wet’. But ‘too dry’ can cause skin irritation from friction. Or tearing if you’re trying to insert something like fingers or a penetrative toy. Like a dildo. Adequate lubrication always reduces the risk of both those things,”

Spencer wanted to ask if there were other kinds of penetrative toys aside from dildos, but he figured that would be a question for another time.

“Yes, Miss.” He nodded in understanding, absorbing what you had told him.

You looked between the toy and his cock, and realized you might as well slick him up beforehand.

You took a step closer to him and put the thickness of the fleshlight between his thighs, propping it there while you quietly mumbled ‘hold this’ - which caused him to tense his thighs in order to keep it from falling. He became enraptured by the sight of the silicone pussy, lubed and wet as a real one would be. He was so distracted by the sight that he almost didn’t take in you pouring lube into your hand before you capped the bottle and put it aside.

“This is probably gonna be cold,” You warned him quietly before you used your lubed hand to take a hold of his cock.

It was. And he let out a harsh gasp - from the shock of the cold wetness, a sound that quickly turned into a strangled moan as you formed a loose grip around his cock and began spreading the wetness over him with purpose. The lube soon warmed between your palm and the throbbing skin of his cock, and he unconsciously bucked into your touch, almost knocking the fleshlight out from resting between his thighs.

“Stay still.” You ordered sharply, shoving his hips back down with your free hand.

The harshness behind your voice, and your thumb pressing into his hip bone sent him reeling. He was so pliant under your touch. Between your commanding authority and the slickness of your lubed hand moving in a slow rhythm in lazy pumps up and down his cock - he was already way too fucking close.

You knew it. You could see the way his stomach muscles quaked, the tensing of his thighs. Those little lilting gasps like music to your ears.

You wondered if he would spurt cum all over your hand before he warned you. (If he did, you would likely pump him through it just to see if he would get hard again.)

“Miss-!” He hollered, choking on the word.

You abruptly stopped then. You stiffened your grip around the base of his cock - which was now nicely lubed up, and throbbing even harder as you effectively used your fingers around his pelvis like a cockring, causing his orgasm to fade dully back into his muscles. He let out a wounded sound, a confused moan from deep in his chest, his stomach shaking even harder as if he was trying to force the orgasm out past your gatekeeping touch. It was almost cute.

“Yes, Spencer?” You asked, looking at him dumbly as though you had no clue what he had been trying to say.

“I - I was getting close.” He completed the thought breathlessly. “C-close to orgasm.”

Damn. If he was this fucked out now, you couldn’t wait to see what he would be like when you were done with him.

“Well, good boys only cum with permission, right?” You said, grinning at him fiendishly.

“Yes, Miss.” He said quickly, his voice dull with disappointment, but agreeable.

“Good boy.” You praised once again. You felt his cock twitch in your hand at the words. “Besides, you haven’t even gotten a chance to try out your new toy yet.”

You then grabbed up the toy and turned it over, using your hand on the base of his cock to feed his length into the fake pussy. More cool lube came rushing down to meet him, and his lungs shook once again and his heated skin was shocked by the feeling. It was strange, but pleasurable as his cock was enveloped by the soft, wet walls of the toy. It was so, so very tight around his cock - and oddly cool, far wetter than he had expected thanks to the amount of lube you had used.

Spencer reasoned that it might be like sticking his cock in a watermelon, if that watermelon were also made of rubber bands.

You knelt down in front of Spencer, looking in awe between the spot where his cock disappeared into the fake leaking pussy to his face. Seeing his reaction to this was utterly beautiful - the way his jaw naturally fell open, his eyes half closed as the pleasure overtook him.

“Oh!” Spencer let out a sudden, high startled sound as you shoved the toy down onto his cock fully.

Your eyes once again flickered between his dick and his face, and you came to an utterly stunning realization.

He didn’t fully fit inside of the toy.

There was about an inch of his cock that was still sticking out of it at the base, and with the resistance your hand had brought up into, you knew that he was fully seated inside of it. Well - as fully seated as he could get, apparently.

It was one of the hottest things you had ever seen, and it sent a dizzying wave of endorphins through you. The sight of his cock not fully fitting into the silicone pussy was a stunning visual that made you realize just how deep he would go inside of you. It made your throat dry for a moment, forced you to swallow hard before you could speak.

“You’re right here, baby?” You asked, tapping a finger on the top of the toy, knowing that he would feel it as a vibration through the plastic.

He let out a gasp and bucked his hips up slightly, something that made you smile. He was too hazy to answer you already, something that you forgave for now. He was just too beautiful to scold in these moments.

“Fuck, you don’t even fit into this thing all the way, do you?” You gasped quietly, still absolutely marveling at the sight.

“I don’t?” Spencer gaped, finally looking down to where the toy was swallowing his cock, seeing as your words had captured his attention. “Is - is that bad?”

He was struck with worry. He thought that perhaps his cock wasn’t right - that he shouldn’t be doing this, that you wouldn’t like him.

It was in that moment that you realized what a treasure you had come across. A beautiful, intelligent man with a huge cock who had no idea how to use it. Someone who needed to be taught from scratch. Someone who could be molded into anything you wanted him to be. (At least in the sexual sense.) That, and he seemed to be naturally submissive and derive pleasure from following your orders.

You most definitely weren’t going to let him go anytime soon.

“No, baby, that’s a good thing.” You assured him. “That’s a great thing.”

Spencer smiled at this - an expression that slacked off into a moan when you made your next move.

You gave the toy a slow half-pump before you seated it on his cock again, seemingly knocking the wind out of them. Then, you let go of the toy completely, letting him sit there with the fleshlight on his cock, bobbing in mid-air. It began to rise up slightly as the tightness of it hugged his cock, and unconsciously, he bucked up his hips, seeking more friction. But of course - the object was simply hanging there, seated on his cock, unmoving. It was an entirely fruitless venture.

With his hands tied behind his back, he needed you. It was an adorable struggle to watch for a moment, especially when his face knit with frustration and his thighs began to quiver from the effort.

“Please,” He begged. He was so pretty when he begged. “Help me.”

“You want me to help you fuck your toy?” You teased, reaching for it again.

“Please, Miss.”

When he whined like that, you couldn’t bring yourself to deny him.

You took a good grip on the plastic then, and began a quick, smooth rhythm. You were eager to see his reaction to being fucked well, being fucked without hesitation.

Spencer immediately shuddered and began letting out harsh whimpers. He bit his lip, but it didn’t keep the sounds from wailing out of his throat as you pumped the toy up and down on his cock.

His chin was tilted down onto his chest, keeping his eyes locked on the place where the toy was devouring his hard cock. This caused his glasses to slip down his nose bridge slightly, something so entirely adorable to you in the moment. With his thighs tense and his stomach quaking, with that pool of artificial wetness leaking onto his pubes and slowly creeping down over his balls - he was so beautifully fucked out, the most perfect picture you had ever seen in your life.

“Oh - oh, oh, oh god!” His mouth fell open once again and an array of sounds fell out, a beautiful little choir that you could have only dreamed of coming from him. “Oh, please!”

You had to wonder if he was the type of person to swear when he came. Spencer was never the type of person to swear during other extreme situations. You had never seen him let out a single curse, not even with a gun to his head.

You had to wonder if you could be the one to make him swear.

“Please, Miss!” He squeaked out, sounding entirely wrecked and desperate. “Please, I’m close-!”

You couldn’t resist the temptation of stilling the toy completely, abruptly cutting off his orgasm once again. Spencer let out a broken sound as his muscles jolted and the feeling ebbed through him - so close, but not quite there. It was like a terrible ache in his muscles. Like a deep, terrible thirst with nothing to drink.

“Please,” He begged, his eyes shooting to lock onto you. “Please! Please, Miss.”

“Please, what, baby?” You teased him, reaching up and gently carding your fingers through his hair, brushing some of it off his forehead. He had a light sheen of sweat going, his body clearly strained. It was delightful to witness.

“Please,” He rasped out brokenly, so entirely desperate. “I - I need it.”

You bit your lip, holding back laughter at how perfect this was.

“Need what, baby?” You continued to tease him. “Come on, use your words.”

He swallowed hard, and stared at you with glassy desperation in his eyes. Either he was shy, or had no clue what exactly it was you wanted him to say - so you decided to guide him along.

“Say: I need to cum.” You told him, hoping that he was desperate enough now that he would simply repeat the filthy words.

“I - I need to cum.” He repeated, only mild hesitation on his lips.

“Say: I need you to make me cum.” You told him, pushing it a bit father.

“I need you,” He said, pausing slightly to catch his breath. “Need you to make me cum.”

“Good boy.” You praised him, running his hand through your hair once again.

You stood up this time, and put one hand on the back of the chair behind his shoulder for leverage, leaning over him as you took the toy in hand and started moving it once again. This gave him a perfect view down your top, and his lustful gaze locked onto your swaying cleavage as you worked on jacking the fake pussy on his cock. It was a maddening suction that had him grunting lowly with every thrust, letting out whines, flexing his hips to fuck his cock up into the toy.

“Does it feel good, pretty boy?” You asked, so heavily enjoying the sight of him so messy, so wrecked.

“Yes!” He easily replied.

“What are you thinking about? Hmm?” You couldn’t help but to ask.

“I - hnng - I - I don’t know!” He gaped.

Either he was lying, and simply didn’t want to tell you what was on his mind, or you had truly fucked his head empty. If it was the second, then you would heavily enjoy that fact.

“You don’t know?” You asked, your voice absolutely teasing once again. “Well, that’s a first.” You chuckled.

Spencer panted harshly, filling the space for a moment - along with the wet squelching of the toy moving up and down on his cock as your wrist continued to work. And then you became bold enough to ask the question that you truly wanted to.

“You thinkin’ about my pussy?” You prodded. “You imagining that this toy is me? Wondering what’s gonna be like when I finally sit on your cock?”

“Yes!” He was suddenly very eager to admit to this. Clearly it helped that he didn’t have to say the words for himself. “Yes! Yes, Miss! I want you. I want your-”

He cut himself off suddenly, moaning sharply as the tip of his cock brought up in the end of the fake pussy once again. It sent a jolt of pleasure-pain through him that had his skin boiling even hotter. You wondered if he would be bold enough to say the word ‘pussy’ or if you would have to heavily prompt him.

But that thought left your head completely with his next words.

“Oh! Oh, please! I’m so close!”

Again, feeling the devil rise up inside of you, you stopped off his orgasm.

This time, by pulling the toy away completely. You lifted the fleshlight off his cock, and watched with lustful joy as his cock slipped out of the opening with a wet pop. His thighs quaked with bitter agony and his long cock bobbed in the air, dripping thick waves of precum and lube as it separated from the toy.

Everything was so wet.

It was honestly a gorgeous sight, like a mini tidal wave dripping down onto the chair as the toy continued to leak the generous amount of lube you had put into it and his cock let out pathetic little spurts of precum. His pubes were glossy and matted together, his inner thighs were absolutely slick. He was glistening and whining harshly as the ruined orgasm crashed through his body, making his mind somehow even hazier and more desperate.

“God!” He choked out. “Please!”

He blinked harshly and a few tears escaped the corners of his eyes, making him look even more gorgeous somehow.

“Please - please! I need - I need - oh god!” He began sobbing nonsensically, begging you for release as he was practically on the verge of madness.

Your cunt throbbed at seeing him so wrecked - so utterly dependent on you.

“Hey, hey, shh.” You reached your free hand out and thumbed under the edge of his glasses - the thick lenses only magnifying his glassy eyes and lustful, broken tears all the more. You soothed your touch across his burning cheek, reassuring him. “You’ve been such a good boy. I’m gonna let you cum now. Okay?”

“Please!” He sobbed.

Hearing his voice so broken and needy probably shouldn’t have turned you on so much, but you absolutely loved it.

“Hey, shh,” You continued to rub his cheek, and he leaned into the touch. “I just need one thing from you first.”

“Anything!” He easily declared.

“I need you to say: ‘may I cum, please?’” You told him.

It was a start on the scale of filthy things that you wanted to hear from his mouth, but it would definitely be oh so satisfying.

And then - as if he knew exactly what he was doing to you, he blinked his big eyes and looked up at you through tear wet lashes, giving you the most pouty, fuckable look as he leaned into your hand before he said the words.

“May I cum, please?” He asked. And then, like the wet dream that he was, he seamlessly added on. “Please, Miss. I-I’ve been a good boy.”

“Yes, you have been.” You told him. “I’ll make you cum now baby.”

You used both hands to get his cock back inside of the toy - the sound of his cock fucking back into the fake pussy was so much wetter, the whine he let out made your knees weak.

You doubled your efforts now, even going so far as to squeeze your grip on the outside of the plastic - which made the silicone grip his cock just that little bit tighter as you slammed it up and down on him. Your movements were hard and fast in the effort to make him cum for certain this time.

“Oh, oh, oh, you - oh!” Spencer began babbling nonsense, his words barely broken up by harsh breaths being sucked into his lungs and whimpers emanating from his throat at the intense pleasure. “Oh, Miss - you - you’re so - ah!”

“Where’s that big IQ now, boy genius?” You taunted him, keeping up the brutal pace. “Did I make you all stupid? Did I melt your big brain? Huh?”

Spencer all but confirmed this as truth when he gurgled out nothingness as a response.

You felt slightly bolder, and you became slightly harsher in your degrading words. You almost couldn’t help yourself. You loved tearing him apart so much, having him melt under your touch. You couldn’t help but to brag about the amazing job you had done.

“Just a dumb little baby now, aren’t you?” You cooed, your voice entirely condescending. “Just a stupid little boy for me. So cumdrunk you can’t even think now, huh? There’s no boy genius here now. Just a dumb baby who needs to cum.”

He only inflated your ego with his next words.

“Yes!” He shouted out, entirely confirming what you had said - if he had even properly heard it through the blood pumping in his ears. To him, it might have just been the raw hum of your voice in the background, like an undertone with no true words to it. “Yes! Need - need t’ cum!”

It was the most incoherent you had ever known Doctor Spencer Reid to be.

You stared on eagerly as you watched his stomach tighten up, his lungs struggling for breath.

“Y/N-!” He gasped out your name right before it hit him.

And when it hit him, when he finally tumbled over the edge into the abyss - boy, it was a big one.

It was an intense, full body orgasm. His legs shook, his body arched off the chair as though he were having a seizure, actually putting a strain on his bonded arms for the first time. He wildly bucked up into the toy as you continued to work it over his cock, his mouth dropping open wildly as a strain of high pitched, needy whimpers poured out from between his pretty pink lips.

You were feeling selfish, and you wanted to see him cum at least a bit.

So knowing that he was riding the wave, you ripped the toy off him, causing a wounded noise to come out of him as his spurting cock fell from it. But you didn’t leave him hanging. You immediately replaced the toy with your hand, and put a tight grip around him, pumping viciously over his throbbing cock, wanting to milk the rest of the orgasm out of him by hand.

The sudden, shocking overstimulation sent his body into overdrive.

His thighs shook so hard it could have been mistaken for electrocution, he gasped like a drowning man - he would have begged for mercy, but he couldn’t catch his breath.

It was the best feeling he had ever experienced. It was pure euphoria, it was heaven on earth. It was an icy hot fire running through his veins that he didn’t even know was possible.

He had never experienced an orgasm like this before. He knew the feeling of an orgasm to be more like a dull tickle in his groin. But now that he had done this - he didn’t think he could go back to anything else.

Large spurts of cum blasted from his cock, so overpowering then that painted his stomach, his chest, and much to your delight - a few thick white spurts even dirtied his glasses when you angled his cock that way and kept viciously pumping him.

His cock was so hot that it felt like it could have burned your hand, so needy and bloated with blood from how long you had edged him. Eventually, when the tip of his cock began to weep out a pathetic clear liquid, and he was on the verge of sobbing once more, you let him go from your grip, finally giving him a moment to breathe.

You knew for certain that you would never be able to look at Spencer Reid again without seeing this imagery: him, completely fucked out, his face flushed red, mouth agape as he struggled for breath. His naked body, limp cock laying against his pelvis, painted in his own cum - including dirtying up his own glasses.

You loved those glasses even more now.

You couldn’t get him to swear - but fuck, that was really something.

“Thank you.” He said meekly, still struggling for breath. “Th-thank you, Miss.”

“Good boy.” You leaned in and kissed his forehead. “Such a good boy for me.”

Now, it was time to take care of him and make sure that he had a good come down.

You put the toy on the coffee table, placing it with the opening up so it wouldn’t leak everywhere - you wouldn’t clean it later. You also took off his glasses and placed them aside. Again - you would clean them later.

You rushed to untie his hands, and eased his arms back around his body by gently rubbing his shoulders, hoping that the muscles wouldn’t be too sore or stiff from being in the same position for so long.

“Such a good boy.” You assured him. “You did so well for me honey.”

He hummed in acknowledgement. Clearly, he was absolutely exhausted from the ordeal. You hoped you could get his tall, gangly self to his bed on your own if he was so fucked out and weak. You walked back around to his front and laid your lips on his forehead again, murmuring more praises against his skin as you continued to rub his shoulders and run your fingers through his hair. You told him how good he was, how perfect he had been for you, how beautiful he was.

After a few minutes, you felt his hands on your hips as he came out of the haze. He ran a thumb along the waistband of your pants, and his first words after that haze surprised you.

“What - what about you?” He asked.

Clearly, he meant that you should have an orgasm. Your cunt was aching dully between your thighs, and you were sure that you had soaked through your underwear. But that had been a lot for him, and you didn’t want to overwhelm him during the first time.

“That’ll be a lesson for next time.” You told him quietly. He hummed quietly at this. He felt assured by you simply saying ‘next time’. “I have to clean up your toy now, so you can use it again later. Then I’ll clean you up and tuck you into bed, okay, baby?”

He nodded. “Yes, please. Thank you.”

You hesitantly broke away from him and grabbed the toy, and as you moved to leave the room, you paused at him mumbling out more words.

“Can - can I have a glass of water, please?” He asked quietly.

“Of course you can, baby.”

You went into the kitchen and ran the toy under hot water - which you left going as you got a glass and filled it with cold water and ice from the dispenser. You were lucky to find a straw in the takeout bag from earlier - you put it in the glass and, while the hot water was still running in the sink, you rushed out to give Spencer a drink.

You held the glass while he chugged gratefully from it, and after a few moments, you ensured that he could hold it with his sex tired hands by himself and then you left to finish cleaning up the toy. You set it on his empty dish rack to drip dry (which was quite a sight). And then you went to the bathroom, coming back with a warm cloth to wipe him down. He was only slightly unsteady on his legs as you guided him to bed - his muscles shaking and tired after the whole amazing ordeal.

You found it endearing that his bed was unmade, surrounded by stacks of books that were lined up on the floor, rather than on any shelf.

You pulled back the covers completely and helped him get in, and you were tucking him in nicely when he asked the sweet question.

“Will you cuddle with me?” He asked quietly, looking up at you with those adorable, expectant eyes once again. “You know, for - for the aftercare?”

You likely would have done it simply because he asked, even if you didn’t deem it ‘necessary’ for aftercare. But because he asked, it was part of good care.

“Of course.” You answered. “I don’t have any pjs, so do you mind if I sleep in my underwear?”

You had just tucked him into bed naked, and he was asking you to lay down beside him like that. But still, you wanted to ask how comfortable he would be if you were in a state of undress.

His eyes shined with interest at the idea of seeing you at least partially undressed.

“I don’t mind.” He told you.

You nodded, and stepped back slightly to begin undressing.

“So - did you have fun?” You asked. You suspected that he had entirely enjoyed himself, but you did want to hear him say it.

Spencer grinned at this. “I think what we just did has changed my definition of ‘fun’ entirely.” He told you. “In a good way. So you know.”

You preened at the idea that you had shifted Spencer’s worldview. Someone who most likely spent his free time reading research papers and playing through chess games entirely on his own and called it ‘fun’ would now be thinking about spending his free time playing with you instead.

You stripped out of your pants, socks, and work blouse, which left you in your simple cotton underwear, a thin cotton camisole and your bra underneath. You decided to take off your bra underneath your shirt and just sleep in the cami and panties for comfort. You knew your underwear was stuck to your cunt from your previous burning arousal, and Spencer’s eyes did focus hard on that, and then focused even harder on the outline of your bare breasts as you ditched your bra off to the side.

If he had the ability to get hard again after that spectacular orgasm, he probably would have been throbbing at the sight of you.

You lifted up the covers and crawled into bed with him, cuddling into his side as he tentatively wrapped an arm around your waist. Your stomach fluttered when he kissed the top of your head before you felt his body relax into the mattress.

“Thank you.” He said quietly, clearly exhausted. “I love it when you teach me things.”

...

Keep Reading Here - Lesson Two: Magic Metacarpals

Note: This is a Capsule Series, so each fic can be read as an individual oneshot. There is no overarching story, and no specific ending.

#sundrop writes #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction

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hannieehaee · 5 months

Text

18+ / mdi

content: thor au, mingyu has superhuman strength (he's literally a god so), mingyu's kinda a dick, re-imagined plot of the first thor movie for fanfic purposes, mentions of movie characters, afab reader, smut, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 2203

a/n: thor was my favorite marvel movie growing up so i loved doing this!!! tysm to the person who requested this and im soooo sorry it took me so long T-T also i havent watched the movies in forever so im so sorry for inaccuracies </3

masterlist

mingyu wasnt too sure where he was.

just moments ago he had been fighting with his younger brother, loki, scolding him over yet another mischievous act, but now he was in the middle of nowhere. well, at least that was going off of his surroundings. in the distance, he could see various signs detailing the foreign words 'new mexico'.

he had just been wandering aimlessly around the desert, not paying too much attention to his surroundings as he tried to make sense of where he was. that was until his entire body was pushed forward by a massive object, making him lose most of his ability to process what just had happened. he was only slightly lucid as he laid limp on the ground, barely processing the girl looking down on him, completely freaked out at having just ran over a man in the middle of nowhere. without putting much of a fight, he allowed you and your friend to struggle your way as you dragged him into the back of your van, probably not wanting to leave any evidence that you'd almost committed homicide.

unfortunately for you both, he passed out quickly after that, not allowing you to confirm any information about him, nor giving you a chance to stumble your way through an apology for almost killing him.

seeing as you almost cost him his life, you decided to bring him to your laboratory, where you would let him rest until he was conscious enough for you to find a way to make it up to him. your friend darcy left you on your own, claiming it wasn't much of her problem since you had been the one driving when you crashed into him.

as you waited for him to wake up, you wondered how and why he had survived your van crashing into him. i mean, he didn't sustain any injuries, simply passing out from the impact. he had even left damage on the van itself upon the crash. looking at him, you realized he was very fit, with muscles bulging from the strange armor he had on. you hadn't questioned any of this until now, being mostly freaked out by almost killing him, but it was all now making you wonder the logistics of the situation.

you didn't have too much time to think, as he began to stir, groaning a bit before actually waking up. he jumped in place upon realizing he was in unfamiliar surroundings, staring at you with wide eyes as he backed away a bit.

"hey-"

"you! who are you? where am i?"

"listen, you might be a bit disoriented after the accident, you're in-"

"new mexico? right? i saw a sign earlier today."

"yeah, it's-"

"okay, but where is new mexico? i need to get back to asgard. how can i manage that?"

"asgard? listen, you must be going through a psychic episode, just let me-"

"stay away! i demand you tell me where i am!"

jesus christ, this man was stubborn. not once sentence could leave your lips before he was making demands. he didn't even give you a chance to apologize either. you weren't sure what he meant by his blabbering, which was still going on by now. asgard? was he hallucinating about norse mythology? had you rendered this man insane?

"we're in new mexico! right by texas? are you okay? you seem kind of disoriented. i'm so sorry about what happened, i-"

"my armor! you damaged it with your machine!", he finally looked down at the scratches and missing bits of his armor, eyes widening once more.

he got up from his spot, marching around your laboratory and grabbing at things with curiosity. he eventually came across your globe, reading out the label before gasping loudly.

"earth?! loki told me of this place. that means you're a human," he was mostly speaking to himself before turning to finally direct himself at you, "human. i am mingyu, the god of thunder. you must help me get back to asgard. can you do that?"

you were speechless throughout his entire ransacking of your lab, but even more so now. was this an insane man you were with in the middle of the desert? you had brought him to your secluded lab out of remorse for what you'd done, but now you were alone in the middle of the night with a maniac. a very strong one at that.

"don't look at me like that," he interrupted your thoughts, "i know im not the god your people typically serve, but i still demand your help. you did hit me, after all."

that broke you out of your spell, your niceness peaking out again, "i'm sorry! i-"

"great! so now you're indebted to me," he clapped his hands together, "how shall we begin?"

okay, there was no way you were helping this maniac with his senseless plan, but you needed to think of a sensible way to tell him to fuck off.

"you're mingyu? the god of thunder? why are you reciting norse mythology to me? i cant get you back to asgard. it doesnt exist," okay, not subtle, but it was a start.

"listen, human. your kind would not understand the depth behind my people. you don't believe me? i'll show you."

and with that, he raised his arm, erected and facing to his side as he stared at you directly into your eyes. he stayed like this for a minute before you chose to question him, only to be shushed by him once more, "just give it a minute, human."

it was about three minutes when suddenly a hammer came crashing through the wall, destroying everything in its way in order to arrive to mingyu's hand.

next thing you knew, you were hiding under your table, utterly terrified at whatever the fuck was happening. was he really the mingyu? but those were all a child's tale, were they not? did you truly have a god standing before you, trying to convince you to come out from hiding?

"human, i- im sorry. i shouldve warned you. come out, please? i'll even forgive you for crashing into me. i just need some help," he sounded so defeated, you couldn't help but feel sorry for him, deciding to come out from hiding as long as he put his hammer down, something to which he agreed to with no hesitation.

"o-okay, mingyu. are you- you're real? shit, okay, never mind. you clearly are. but how can i help you? i'm not a god, h-how am i supposed to help you go back home?"

"there's always a way, human. we just need to find an opening. you see ..." he proceeded to explain his entire plan to you, sounding way more intelligent than he had shown himself to be throughout every interaction you'd had with him so far. he was also standing. very. close. it was hard to pay attention when the damage of his suit allowed you such a perfect view at his gigantic muscles. but you needed to focus! you owed it to him to at least try to help him.

the plan had been settled soon after that, agreeing that tomorrow you'd use your 'machine' (re: car) to drive him to a specific spot in which he'd be able to gather enough energy to summon lightning from the sky, which would render him powerful enough to communicate with gandall, who would take him back to asgard. it was too much for the regular person to process, but luckily for him, the person who almost ran him over was a scientist who was very well read on norse mythology.

after that, you had told him he could hit a shower, located in the habitable part of the lab in which you'd stay at sometimes. you let him know you two should also catch some sleep before tomorrow. you offered up your bed, claiming you'd take the couch since you'd caused him all this trouble anyway. he agreed with no argument, making you frown a little at his lack of gallantry.

he came out of the shower soon after, all while you sat on the couch occupied by a book. you heard his arrival, but didn't pay him much mind until doing a double take on him, realizing he was stark naked, with every glorious inch of skin in full display.

"jesus christ! what the hell are you doing?!", you covered your face with your book, extremely flustered at the sight. how was he so bi-

"what? is there no nudity on earth?", he sat on the couch, way too close to you.

"yes! but not like this! you're supposed to warn me beforehand. i-"

"why won't you look at me, human? uncover your face at once."

you weren't sure why, but you followed his direction, removing the book from your face but keeping your eyes closed.

"eyes open too."

you opened them, looking up as to avoid staring at his nether area. although you weren't looking at him, you could tell he had moved to sit even closer, making you anxious about what he'd do next.

"look at me."

you looked down to find him staring directly at you, face at only a few inches from yours. you couldn't help it when your eyes lowered to his lips, noticing him mirror your actions.

"this?" he whispered, "this is what you want?"

it was an ominous and unclear statement, but you still found yourself nodding, too full of a sudden surge of lust to think properly.

he attacked you with his lips, using full force immediately upon kissing you. he was very intense with his movements, almost immediately pinning you down on the couch, an easy feat for a god with his superhuman strength.

you couldn't help how wet you grew almost immediately, having taken a peak at his massive length when he had first approached you on the couch. was he going to put that in you? you were kinda terrified, but also giddy to feel the insane stretch he was about to give you.

you kept keening against him, softly moaning into his lips as he ground his hips against your own, making him groan in return.

"gods, human. you're so fragile ... so delicate. i'm gonna- gonna break you," it sounded like dirty talk, but there was some genuine concert laced in his tone.

"do it! please ... please fuck me," all dignity had left you the moment you saw him in all his naked glory, so any begging was fair game to you by now.

he chuckled, "yeah? pretty princess wants me to fuck her? think you can take it?", he was quite literally dangling his dick in front of your eyes, hands ripping your shorts out of the way as you gasped at the act.

"sorry, princess," he coo'd condescendingly, "they were getting in my way."

he didnt bother to check whether you were wet enough or not before plunging into you, but you had fortunately been dripping for him by then. still, his massive size had you writhing under him, screaming his name to anyone who could hear you from your secluded location.

"oh? now you pray my name? fuck, beautiful human. didn't know humans could be so pretty ..." he was growing delirious at the tightness of your cunt, combined with your much smaller frame. all women in asgard were as big and built as him. this was his first time experiencing anything like this, and it had him rethinking his return to asgard.

'g-gyu ... shit. i'm gonna cum, please!'

he folded you like a pretzel, not caring to conceal his inhuman strength as he pounded madly into you, feeding off your gasps and squeals. you were making him see valhalla.

"pretty princess ... cum for me. let me have yours and i'll give you mine- shit! gonna breed you. gonna come back here and take care of you every time im lonely. g-gonna keep you all to myself. my pretty secret on earth."

the idea of mingyu popping by to fuck you whenever the literal heaven that was asgard became too boring for him had you keening, now grateful you had ran him over as your orgasm attacked you unexpectedly.

you had never felt such a high, almost feeling like you had astral-projected into heaven. mingyu seemed to be in a similar situation, groaning against your mouth as he filled you up with his endless seed. seemed like he was well-endowed in all areas, being a god and all.

"fuck ... thank you for that, human," he thanked you as he got up, at least having the courtesy of helping you clean up, "now i feel kinda bad about leaving."

"then dont," you werent sure why you said that. maybe the high of your orgasm.

"yeah?", he smirked, nearing you once again, "convince me," you noticed his hardness was already back, at a literally inhuman speed.

you weren't sure how you were meant to take him again with no rest in between, but you were willing to take the challenge. you'd worry about how to get the god back to his home tomorrow. for now, you were going to enjoy him while you had him.

a/n: before anyone comes for me, I KNOW this isnt very inaccurate for thor (ive watched the movies too many times) but i wanted to write a short smutty blurb and not go off with too many words so this is what we ended up with

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #svt fanfic #seventeen #svt #svt x reader #seventeen imagine #seventeen oneshot #seventeen smut #svt smut #mingyu scenario #mingyu imagines #mingyu fanfic #mingyu smut #mingyu oneshot #mingyu x reader

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harrystylesfan2686 · 2 months

Note

Hello! For the dialogue, number 18 AzrielxReader.

Thank you!

"Stay With Me."

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: You get Hurt on a mission with Azriel.

Warnings: slight mentions of torture

A/N: hey!! Thanks for requesting! Hope you like this!!💕😭

Dialogue Prompts Masterlist Part 2

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"I, am, tired!" You struggle saying each word, considering you are walking through a storm in forest.

You are on a mission with Azriel, of all people. You have no idea what Rhysand was doing pairing you both together. He knows how the two of you don't get along but he still, put you with each other.

You are currently walking through a woods along Night Court border. You were supposed to meet Eris for some information Rhysand needed against Barron but the basturd didn't show up, instead a storm did. Out of nowhere, heavy drops of rain started falling, covering the forest with dark clouds and muddy road.

You can't fly due to the water and can't winnow because you can't see anything, so, the two of you decided, walking it is. Having no idea where you are going, you have been walking for hours, surely Rhysand would be suspicious by now.

"You complaint too much." You can practically hear Azriel's eye roll following his remark. He might seem quite and kind to other people, which he is, to other people. Not to you though, his entire personality changes when it comes to you. All the kind and quite persona gets replaced with a snarky and bored one. Arguing with you seems to be his life purpose.

You don't understand why. He has always been that way with you. You were so good from the moment you met. You and Rhysand met first, having both being victims of Amarantha, in different ways. You know the horrors Rhysand had to suffer to survive, you didn't nearly spent the same enduring as him but Amarantha kept you with her for her torturing tasks, scaring you body with her anger.

You and him escaped her together and he brought you back to Velaris with him, knowing you haven't got any family left. He introduced you to his inner circle and kept you in as one of Azriel's spies. You were so excited to finally meet the infamous Spymaster, what you didn't expect was the cold expression he had in his eyes after meeting you.

You groan and take the next step heavier in anger, hoping to stomp your foot but your breath leaves you body when you foot gets sucked in a giant hole, being covered with dried sticks and mud. You scream as you fall, the hole bigger than you thought it be.

When you finally fall on the ground with a thug, you stay still for a second and then the pain hits. Quickly starting from your abdomen and spreading to the rest of your body. You feel snips of pain all over your body, having being covered with small cuts by the dried wood, but the main source of pain is into your stomach.

You try to get up but cry out in pain, again laying down. This time you only lift your head to see what causes such immense pain. You gasp when you see black matel, and small sharp teeth like points connected to a thick matel band.

A bear trap. Great. Seems like you are a bear now.

You can't even breath through the pain. It's that bad. The sharp points digging into your skin with more force every second, your blood now starting to pool beneath you. You close your eyes as you feel a wave of dizziness behind your eyes.

"Shit, Y/N!" Azriel's voice comes to you first before you feel his hands coming to your body. "This is going to hurt." Is the only warning you get before his hands dig into your stomach, pulling at the matel. You scream out as it finally get out of you, leaving huge gapping holes and straches that, now, also bleed.

You sob in pain as Azriel throws away the trap and covers your injury with his hand. You turn to look at the thing, large enough campared to half your body. You realize it would kill you if Az hadn't taken it out. Gods, where do people even find weapons so big.

You cry again when Az press on your wound and lefts your upper body to his. The rain pouring only making things worse and he spreads out his wings, as if reading your thoughts, hiding you from the rain and the world.

"I'm going to die, aren't I?" Your voice coming out weaker then you imagined and Az sucks in a breath.

"Shut up. You aren't going to die." Sure, Rhysand will come for you both. And if he doesn't, Az will carry you all the way to Valeris himself if he'll have to. Letting you go is not an option.

"Who will you have to fight with after I'm gone? Hm?" You try to joke, laughing at yourself weakly but Azriel looks mad.

"You're alright. We're getting out of here, you're going to heal and we are going to keep fighting like we always do." The small quiver in his voice spoke more than he wanted to.

"I hope so." Your eyes closing now.

"No, no, no, no. Hey! Hey, look at me!" His hands jerk your face, desperately trying to keep your eyes open and to his. He groans out, thinking of a way to keep you awake and then freezes, saying the one thing that has you so shocked, you don't think of anything else.

"You're my mate."

His hand, that was to your wound clasp around yours, again putting it to the bleeding hole, now pressing with both of your hands, and he looks into your eyes, repeating his words trying to get you to see the truth in them. After a moment, your fingers slightly tighten around his and he almost cries in relief.

"What?" Your voice so weak, it brings tears in his eyes. "How?"

"I'm sorry. I never told you before. I was never strong enough to do so." Your slightly quickened breathing and eyes on his, he takes this as good signs and continues talking, hoping to keep you interested and shocked enough to stay awake until he finds a way to get out.

"From the moment I met you, I've known. You are my mate. The person I longed for all this time. I- I didn't tell you because I was ashamed. Ashamed to admit that you got paired with someone like myself. You happy personality was something I could never keep up to. I could never keep you happy." A tear falls down his eye but he ignores it and keeps talking, keeps your beautiful eyes on him. "I love you, Y/N. I always have. From moment- we first met. From the second I layed my eyes on you. I don't want you to be stuck with me, so I never told. I was a coward, darling. I am so sorry."

The name he called, doing something to you. Making you feel something you haven't felt before.

Your mate.

Azriel is your mate. He has known this, ever since he met you and didn't tell you, but you can't find it in yourself to be angry at him. In a way you understand him. Understand why he did what he did, you wouldn't have told him either, given how you thought of yourself, you wouldn't want to tie him to you forever too. Hel, you probably would have ran away, afraid of what having a mate would imply.

But now, you don't care about any of this. You have a mate. And you will show him just how much you want him. If this is, in fact, your last living moment, you will not waste it. You weakly lift your other hand, keeping one to his, and touch his face. The act taking so much enery, your fingers shaking against his cheek and he can clearly feel it, given that now more tears fall down his face.

"I am proud to call you my mate."

You weakly smile at him. His eyes now shut close and he hugs you to his body, the hand that is to yours, now cluching tighter and the other around your back, his face buried in your neck and he cries harder.

The last thing you hear before darkness sweeps you, is his voice begging you to stay as tears fill your face and neck.

"Please, stay with me."

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#acotar #acotar fandom #acotar fanfiction #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel angst #acotar angst

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siampie · 22 days

Text

Get Off the Highway || Chapter 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 3.3K

Warnings/tags: Enemies to lovers trope, pining, angst, fluff, childhood trauma, eldest daughter syndrome, mention of depression

A/N: Alright, I struggled to write this chapter. I wanted to get the interactions between Dean and Reader right but also, wanted to give you more info on Reader. So, I really hope you’ll like this chapter.

Previous Chapter || Chapter List || Next chapter

Masterlist || Join my tag list

Tag list: @lyarr24, @deans-baby-momma, @hell0-ki11y111, @kr804573, @zepskies, @impalari, @urinternetmom, @sushiumex

Dividers by @cafekitsune

You poured the salt on the corpse. You cracked a match and threw it on the body. Flames engulfed the bones. You stood there for a little while longer. The poor girl had not stood a chance. Her family had been horrible to her. Put her through torture. And that was decades ago. She had no reasons to remain amongst the living, no reasons to haunt them. They weren’t the one who had hurt her and yet, she still wanted revenge. Blinded by her rage, the spirit had killed the people that had lived in her mansion over the years. Some were classified as natural deaths, and others as freak accidents. With so many deaths in one mansion over the years. All happening at a specific time of the years, you had to check it out.

It was a run of the mill hunt. Quite easy. You threw your bags in the trunk of your car, and climbed in the driver’s seat. Your goal was to get out of town as quick as possible, to disappear. You drove through the night. You wanted to get to your small flat as quick as possible.

Your two bedrooms apartment was your refuge. You could go there and recuperate for a few days. You loved hunting, you really did but you sometimes needed a break from it. Adding to the dangerous nature of the job, and the constant near death experiences, it was also draining. And rarely, was it ever rewarding. But that was not why you were doing it. You truly believed that everyone in this life was born with a purpose. There were people born to be doctors, or cops, or even firemen. And some were born to be hunters. That was you.

One fateful night, you found out that monsters were real. Everything that went bumping into the night, the monsters under the bed, the witches, vampires, werewolves, they were all real. That fateful night was also the start of your aversion for woods, camping and wendigos. You hated all three of those things, and you avoided them at all cost. But it had not deterred you from getting into the life. After finding out about them being real, you could not just ignore it. You could not keep living your life as though nothing had happened. As though you knew nothing of monsters and of the people that hunted them.

So, you became one yourself.

The sounds of gunfire welcomed you as you pushed your door open. And the voice of your youngest brother swearing at the television followed. You pushed your door closed behind you with a tired sigh. Sure, you had texted him to let him know that you would soon be back. But you had not expected him to be there still.

“That’s not why I left you a key, you know?” You said dropping your bags by the door, after you locked it.

He put down the controller on the coffee table. “Your plant is taken care of.” He shrugged turning to you. “You look awful.”

“Thanks.” You answered dryly. You dropped your keys on your dinner table, and moved to your kitchen. “Want a beer?”

“Yeah,” He got up and followed you into your kitchen. “So, how was it?”

“Matt—”

“Come on, you can tell me.” He leaned on the counter behind him.

“I don’t want to tell you.” You shook your head. “I’m not talking about it with you or anyone else.”

“Why not?”

“Because—we are talking about hunting monsters. And I don’t want any of you into the life.” You moved back into your living room. “And what the hell are you still doing here anyway? Don’t you have a girlfriend to go back to?”

“Just wanted to make sure, you were alright before I left.” He shrugged.

You smiled fondly at him. “That’s so sweet.” You cooed at him, pinching his cheek. He swatted it away.

“Stop.”

You snorted. “I’m alright, not injured. So, you can go back to your girlfriend.” You slapped his shoulder.

“you’re sure?”

“I’m sure.” You nodded. “Go.”

“Alright, call if you need anything.”

“I won’t.” You called after him. “And don’t call me for the next few days, please.”

“I will.” He walked and locked behind him.

You spent the next few days locked up in your apartment. True to his words, your brother called you. But you really did not mind. Your youngest brother only wanted to make sure that you were taken care off. After all, you were living alone while he and your two other siblings had people to come home to.

Building relationships with anyone had never been easy for you. Especially romantic ones. Something always went wrong. You felt as though you were giving more than you were receiving. You always thought that you were not understood as you did them. And instead of expressing those things, you kept quiet. You let things go, hoping they would solve themselves. And ultimately, it would lead to break-up.

You never stayed home too long. You gave yourself a few days off, away from hunting and monsters, before going back into the fray. It wasn’t surprising to find you back on the road within days. And you always let your brother know when you did.

Out of all your siblings, he was the closest to you. The one that truly worried about you and made sure you were alright and taken care of, when you were home. And to think both of you hated each other growing up, was just laughable now. You knew you had failed him when you were younger. Always siding with your parents, trying your best to keep peace within your family. It had put a strain on your relationship with your siblings over the years.

“Agent Prentiss, FBI.” You flashed your fake FBI badge to the officer on the scene.

“Officer Davis.” He introduced himself. His eyes inevitably landed on your cleavage area.

Your white buttoned-down shirt was a little tight around your breast, you had left a couples of buttons undone. Which was giving him a glimpse of it

“What brings the FBI into this neck of the wood?” Davis said, clearing his throat.

You smirked as you caught him ogling at your cleavage. “The bureau has taken an interest into the recent strings of death that has been happening lately.”

“There’s nothing interesting in a couple of animal attacks.” Davis scoffed.

“True but these are quite unusual.” You pointed out. "Hearts missing. And nothing else. Doesn't really sound like an animal to me."

“Look, it’s better if people think it’s an animal.” Davis said quietly to you. “We don’t want them to panic while there’s a killer on the loose.”

“I completely understand your situation, trust me.” You told him. “I’m only here to help you. Maybe, a set of fresh eyes may help you see things a little clearer.” He seemed to hesitate. “I don’t want to step on your toes, here. I really do want to stop the killings. So, let me help you.”

You looked up at him. He ran a hand on the back of his neck. Hesitating on letting you in the investigation. He looked around you, the crowd at the edge of the crime scenes, the journalist looking for sensational news. Clearly, he was at a loss. He needed to provide answers to the victims’ family.

The killing spree had started a few days ago. It was pretty gruesome. Dead bodies had been found recently; their hearts had been ripped out. For you, it was quite an easy hunt. It was clearly werewolves. The deaths started with the full moon, and their hearts were missing.

“What can you tell me about the victim?”

“Young woman, early twenties,” He cleared his throat. He started to lead you toward the victim, where the Medical Examiner was getting a look at the victim. “She was found by a couple of joggers.”

You raised a skeptical eyebrow to him. “People jog in this area?”

“Yeah, there’s a short trail that go into the woods for a few miles, before it cuts back into the park over there.” He gestured over your shoulder.

You looked over your shoulders briefly, and did a double take when you recognized a couple of familiar faces. “You have got to be kidding me.” You said under your breath.

“What was that?” Officer Davis asked you.

“It seems there was a mix up at the bureau.” You smiled tightly at Davis. “Anyway—” You turned to the M.E. “Anything you can tell me on the cause of death?”

The M.E. looked to the leading officer for approval. The latter nodded at her. “Same as the others.” She said, moving the head of the young woman to the side. “No apparent defensive wounds, she was hit over the head. Same spot as the others,” her hands left her head and went to victim’s wrists. “Ligature marks, and of course her heart’s missing.”

It looked like a werewolf kill alright. Although, the ligatures marks did not make much sense to you. Neither did the head trauma. Werewolves were pretty strong creatures and this seemed to indicate that they needed to restrain the victim before the kill, but why?

You turned around to see Dean and Sam Winchester were walking up to you. You excused yourself and met the brothers halfway. Dean looked a little peeved by your presence there. You approached them under his glare. You really did not get why he was mad about you being there. And you didn’t care.

“Winchesters, we meet again.” You said as a form of greeting.

Sam smiled down at you. “It’s good to see you.” Dean scoffed at that.

“Not everybody agrees.” Your eyes drifted to Dean briefly before you returned your attention on Sam.

“You’re not working the case.” Dean said and you glanced up at him confused.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re not working the case.” Dean then gestured between him and Sam. “We are.”

You scoffed in disbelief. “I already have an in with the officers. I got this under control. You can sit this one out. You do look like you need some rest, you look tired.” You patted his shoulder; and he recoiled from your touch.

“I don’t need rest.” He pointed an angry finger under your nose. “And really?!” Dean’s eyebrows went up into his hairline. “You got this under control?”

“Yeah, I do.” You nodded.

“So, you have it all figured out already?” Dean questioned, clearly hostile.

“I mean, yeah.” You shrugged. “Dead bodies, heart’s missing. I’d say—werewolves.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“And you do?”

“How can you be so sure it’s werewolves?” He questioned.

“Because it makes sense.” You argued back. “What else could it be?”

“Skinwalker.” He shrugged smugly.

“Please.” You scoffed. “You’re just pulling something out of your ass.”

“Dean’s right.” Sam sighed. “It could be a skinwalker. We don’t know that for sure.”

“We do.” You retorted. “It’s a full moon.”

“It won’t matter if it’s a skinwalker.” Dean shook his head.

“Alright.” You snapped at him. “I’ll take that in consideration. Thank you for your help. Go home.”

You turned away from Dean and stomped to your car. You were angry with him, now. He was talking to you as though you didn’t know how to do your job.

Dean grabbed your arm, stopping you on your way to your car. “Listen, kid—“ You looked between him and the grip he had on your arm. “You could barely handle a vampire hunt on your own and now you want to take on werewolves?” You ripped your arm out of his grip. “You should really leave this one to us.”

“First, not a kid. Never was.” You replied. “Second, I called for help because I had never hunted vampires before.” You walked closer to him and jabbed a finger in his chest. “I know how to handle myself on a hunt. Not that’s any of your business, Winchester. I don’t need you or your brother, I can take care of this.”

You turned around and ripped the door to the driver’s seat open, before slamming it shut. And peeled out of there. How dared he? He treated you as though you were an amateur. This wasn’t your first rodeo; you knew how to hunt. You weren't new to this job. You should have reminded him that you saved his life on this vampire hunt. Had he forgotten?

You couldn’t care less if he stayed in town or if he left. You would just proceed with the hunt. Whether it was a werewolf or Skinwalker; as they suggested; you’d kill it and be out of town. After all, it was an easy enough hunt.

As you’d soon find out, they, in fact, did not leave town. You crossed path with them at the diner. You sent a glare Dean’s way as you walked up to one of the empty booths. You were determined to ignore Dean Winchester and his brother. You were determined to show them that you could handle yourself, and take care of it all on your own.

You didn’t need them. You had never needed anyone.

You sat alone in your booth and ate your lunch while reviewing the victims’ files. They all had been found by the trail near the small wooded area. Heart’s missing, ligatures marks, slight head trauma. The heart being ripped out, indicated a werewolf kill but the ligatures marks and the head trauma suggested something different. You didn’t understand why they were there. Why did they tie up the victims?

There was only one way to find out but you did not like it. You had an aversion for the wooded areas by night. More than anything. However you were a hunter and sometimes, you had to do what you had to do. So, you traded your FBI pantsuit for dark jeans that hugged your large hips and thick thighs perfectly. You traded your dress shirt for a tie-dye crop top that showed a sliver of your skin, and the stretchmarks that peeked out of your waistband. Scars that you had gained over the years as your body changed. It had grown and suffered. It wasn’t slim or thin, it was curvy and big. You had large hips, thick and plushy thighs, a large breast. You loved your body and you had learned to flaunt it.

Flaunting your assets was not what you were going to do tonight. Anyone who knew you, would tell you it was the worst idea you’d ever had. Especially knowing your aversion for the woods at night time. Garth would advise you to ask the Winchesters, since they were in town, to accompany you. And in retrospect, you probably should have. But he didn’t need to know about that.

“Son of a gun!” You breathed out shakily. You tightened your dark green flannel and your thick jacket around your torso.

You were too stubborn to ask for help when you should. But asking for help was like admitting weakness. And you refused to appear weak in front of Dean Winchester. He already thought you were incapable. You didn’t want him to think of you as weak. You were not going to give him the satisfaction.

Your fingers were tight around your lamp torch. Your heart beating wildly beneath your ribcage. Every breath you took was shaky. Everything in you was screaming at you to run. To go to safety. But you were a hunter. You needed to put an end to the killings. You needed to take care of the werewolf. Or the skinwalker.

Crunch. You froze. Crunch. You pulled out your gun. Crunch. A snort. You knew it wasn’t human. You took another shaky breath. A failed attempt to steady yourself. Your feet remained rooted to the ground. As the sounds were coming closer to your position. You needed to move. And fast.

When your body finally obeyed your brain, it was already too late. You had barely moved when the beast pounced on you. You let out a scream as you landed on your back. The wind got knocked out of you. Your gun flew away from you.

There you were, defenseless. And alone.

Yellow eyes staring into yours. Bared fangs as it snarled at you. Its breath was hot on your face. You did not wish to die here. Alone. Away from your family. This seemed much too familiar to you. A feeling of déjà-vu. You hated it. You hated the woods. You hated that monster breathing down on your face.

A shot rang. Its head snapped up to the sound. Two tall figures were rushing to your aid. You could have sobbed with relief at seeing them. But you weren’t out of the woods yet. No pun intended.

Its snarled at them. They fired their guns again. The creature fled as fast as they could. Sam rushed to your aid while Dean pursued the monster.

“Hey,” He helped you up. “You okay?”

You nodded quickly. You were still shaken up. This was too close. You could have died tonight. All of that because you weren’t prepared. Because you wanted to prove something. You screwed up. You clenched your fists repeatedly. You just wanted for your hands to stop shaking. If they could only stop shaking.

“What the hell do you think you were doing?” Dean snapped at you, once he came back.

“What?”

“We were tracking it down and now it’s gone.” He continued. “You screwed it all up.”

“Dean.” Sam put a hand on his brother’s chest.

“Excuse you!” You snapped back at him. “I screwed up? I was being attacked.”

“Yeah, and whose fault is that?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you don’t know what you’re doing, princess.” Dean stepped closer to you, glaring down at you. “I don’t know how you survived this long on your own, but it won’t last much longer if you keep pulling stupid stunts like that. Leave this to us before you get yourself killed.”

What he said wasn’t untrue. You could have gotten yourself killed tonight. It was reckless to go in before truly knowing what was behind the attacks. Although, that was unfair of him to say. You didn’t set out to be attacked or get yourself killed. You were only trying to do your job. You were a hunter and this was what hunters do. This was what they were doing. So, why was it okay for them to do but not for you?

No one believed in you. No matter how hard you tried they still thought you were uncapable. You had met hunters like him before. Doubting you and your skills. You were too soft, they said. You scared too easy, they said. However, you had proven to them that you knew what you were doing. You had proven to them that you got the job done.

You glared back at him. “Like you care.” You wanted to sound harsh, angry. You wanted him to know that you won’t let him get to you. But that wasn’t how it sounded coming out of your mouth.

You sounded tired and defeated. No one would care if you did die. Not the Winchesters. Not even your own family. Those words had always been floating in your brain for years. After all, you had done so many things for so many people. So many things that went unnoticed. Of course, if you were to disappear. No one would notice the difference. They didn’t need you. Not as much as you needed them. You felt the tears pressed against your eyes.

You would not give him the satisfaction to see you cry, on top of everything else. So, you turned around and walked away from the Winchesters. You heard Sam called you but you ignored him.

You needed to get away from the woods. You needed to get away from Dean.

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#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x plus size!reader #dean winchester x fem!reader #dean winchester angst #spn #sam winchester #dean winchester #angst

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ponyosfrogg · 10 months

Text

INBETWEEN

Summary: You wake up with no memory of who you are. Determined to find the truth and unveiling mysteries, you also test familial bonds.

Pairings (?): This is the first part of Tim Drake x Reader fanfic. Thinking about enemies to lovers dynamic. There will be a lot of mystery, angst, fluff and eventual smut.

Author Note: In this fic they don't have a lot of age gap but since i don't like the specific age mentioned in fics, i won't be saying anything about it. It's the first chapter of a long series. It's a Female wayne! fic. And English is not my first language, my work might have a lot of mistakes, sorry about them in advance. I hope you guys enjoy it, this fic holds a special part in my heart!

Warning: Some of the themes and contents written in this fic might be upsetting for some of the readers, read at your own risk. Some parts have strong language.

Damian paced anxiously in the green room, his mind filled with worry. Although he tried to hide it, his hands were sweaty with fear. His sister was laying unconscious on the white bed, and he felt a pang of guilt knowing that he had failed to protect her once again. He loved his sister more than anything, perhaps even more than himself.

Dick couldn't bear to see Damian's distressed state any longer. He continued to stroke your hair without removing his hand and called out to Damian, "Don't worry, I'm sure she'll be fine." At that point, even his optimistic personality was struggling. The worried child became even more angry at the calm reassurance. "Don't tell me not to worry! She's been unconscious for nearly four hours now, and the fucking person who did this is watching from the corner of the room!" Clenching his teeth, Damian attempted to approach Tim, but Jason blocked his path. "Calm down, kid. He said he didn't do it on purpose. You know better than anyone what happens when we are sparring. "

"It doesn't matter if he didn't do it on purpose! If she doesn't wake up, I'll kill him.." Tim replied nonchalantly. "Feel free to try, devil." Rolling his eyes without an attempt to hide it. These words and this attitude triggered Damian. If there's one thing you need to know about Damian, it's that he is an impatient person. Just as he was preparing to jump on Tim, Dick's firm voice stopped everyone. "She's waking up!"

You opened your eyes with a sharp pain in your head. It felt like a heavy train had passed over your body over and over again. The pain in your head enveloped your neck and entire body. As you attempted to sit up slowly, a few hands pushed you back onto the bed. "It's too early for you to get up." A voice you didn't recognize spoke in a reassuring tone. You struggled to part your lips and asked the question. "Where am I?" You had a thirst which made you feel like you've never drunk any water for your whole life now.

"You're with me." A younger voice spoke and you felt someone holding your hand. The voice felt very familiar yet distant. You fully opened your eyes and saw the faces standing before you. There was a boy (?) or just a young looking man holding your hand and the other guy sitting next to you watched you with smile. When you tried to pull your hand away and move back, your head throbbed with pain and you let a painful whimper leave your lips. "Who are you both?" You sat up more in bed and tried to distance yourself from them as much as possible. The young boy who had held your hand lost his smile because of your reaction.

"I'm Damian, don't you remember me?." As the child approached the bed, you retreated further as if you could merge into the wall. Seeing this, the older looking guy who stood next to you, slightly taller than the others, stopped Damian. "Can you tell us the last thing you remember, sweetheart?" His voice, his gentle manners and probably good-looking face helped calm you down a bit. You tried to think about the last thing you remembered, but your mind felt completely blank. And every time you tried to think, an incredible pain pierced your head. It was as if something didn't want you to remember, as if someone had come and stolen all of your memories.

"I don't remember anything.." You struggled to utter those few words. "Nothing.." The last thing you said seemed more like an attempt to convince yourself. Nothing? You were undeniably completely confused, and there was an immense pain in your head. If there wasn't an open wound, how could it hurt so much? Yet, you still put your hand on your head just to make sure.

Damian's eyebrows furrowed, almost covering his green eyes. He spoke with anger almost spitting out every word, "Did you cause her a fucking memory loss?!" He yelled loudly and lunged at the boy who was slightly taller than him standing at the corner of the room. Suddenly they were literally fighting with each other which caught you off guard. With fear you widened your eyes. The boy, whom you had just noticed, tried to intervene. He had black hair with a white part on the front that rested just above his forehead. He was wearing a black leather jacket and black jeans, giving him a biker-like appearance. The ugly sound of punches hitting the flesh from Damian's strikes made you even more frightened, and the guy standing next to you yelled, "You are scaring her!"

Damian struggled to control his anger and stood up. His knuckles were in great pain, but it was the least of his concerns. As he was about to approach the bed where his dear sister lay, Dick once again stopped him this time with his hand. "Leave the room." His authoritative voice commanded Damian once more, causing his cheeks to flush with anger. "You can't tell me what to do, she is my sister."

Dick took a deep breath and tried to calm down. He had become the fucking babysitter of these kids even though they were almost a grown ass man "She is not just your sister Damian. What you're doing right now is nothing but scaring her."

As Damian's attention came over you again, he easily could see the fear growing in your eyes. It wasn't something he was used to. He had witnessed this look of yours only three times in his life: the night both of your grandfather died when you found his body repeatedly stabbed, a loud thunderstorm when you were six or so, and now. He hated that look because it usually meant something uncontrollable was happening and he didn't like to lose control. He hated that he wasn't able to be there and protect you. He hated every second of it. Under normal circumstances, all he could do was hold you and reassure you that everything would be alright, that he would protect you forever, even though getting physically involved or showing affection to people openly wasn't his style. That was usually enough to calm you down, although it wouldn't stop you from crying. Damian, on the other hand, would just hold you for hours and let you cry in his arms until you felt better. Maybe even for hours, you would allow yourself to cry in his arms. Some of your family members were saying this connection was because you were twins and some of them were saying it was because how you guys only had each other at a certain point but no, that wasn't it. Both if you shared something more than that, a connection. He could feel whenever you were sad, and when you were in pain, it was also his pain. Calling it a twin-bond was nothing enough to explain how he felt about you. You were his family, you were his sister: his beloved sister. He would come to you when he had a problem, he would come to you when he was happy, he would come to you when he was overwhelmed by everything. You were his safe space, just like him being your safe space too. Now was the time you needed him the most, and why couldn't Dick see that? Why didn't he understand that all you needed was for him to hold you and give you hope that everything would heal?

Interrupting his thoughts, Jason's hand found his shoulder. "It's confusing for all of us to have this situation. For now, we should let Dick stay with her and let him understand her condition." Damian didn't want to leave your side, but he understood the underlying truth behind Jason's words. It might be something small, or maybe something big, but whatever it was, Dick needed to talk to you to understand what was going on. Although he wanted this position himself, he knew he was too angry for it at the moment. He was doing this for your sake and your well-being. While still facing Dick, he moved closer to you. "I'll be back soon.." When he was about to kiss your forehead, the lack of love and the frightened expression on your face appeared which prevented him to show any affection. He wouldn't want to do something that could hurt you. He said nothing more and decided to leave the room just for now.

I'm Dick," he said, as his blue eyes narrowed with compassion. You looked at him with empty eyes and asked, "Is it always like this?" He contented himself with a smile in response to what you said. "Yes, don't you remember who you are? Anything at all?" From the question he asked you, you could understand that he was one of the people who struggled the most with the situation you were in you can't help yourself but feel a little bit of guilt again. "No, I'm sorry..." You felt like you were in the middle of nothingness. Nothing meant anything to you, and nothing seemed important. The faces you saw, the arguments you watched, all passed before your eyes like you were watching some kind of movie. But every time you searched your mind, what you found inside your head was a void much greater than the emptiness you felt on your chest.

He smiled at you again and reached out his hand to hold yours. "We should meet again then, I'm Richard Grayson, but you can call me Dick. I'm your big brother," he said. You nodded your head in response to what he said and extended your hand. When your hands disappeared in his large hands, he smiled at you again. His white teeth shimmered like pearls.

You looked at him for a moment. He had a slightly tanned skin. He had navy blue eyes and black hair. His haircut was somewhat long, falling towards his ears and upper parts of his neck. He was wearing a partially tight light blue t-shirt that accentuated the color of his eyes and hinted at his regular exercise routine. "I don't want to confuse your mind too much; family ties can be a bit complicated." As he ran his hand through his nape and shyly took his eyes to check the wall, you couldn't help but smile. "Do you feel better?" You understood that he was referring to your recent panic attack. "Yes."

There was still some hesitancy within you. One part of you was urging you to run away, while the other insisted on staying. You didn't know where you were, who these people were, and staying here didn't seem like an appealing option. Nothing made sense to you, and you felt like a newborn baby, everything feeling foreign and distant, far from a comfortable environment. When he noticed you are drowning in your mind, he approached to comfort you, but you instinctively backed off towards the wall. "I'm sorry... There's no need to be afraid of us. We mean no harm." He distanced himself a bit to help you relax, and the front of his bed was completely open. Slowly, you let your feet dangle off the bed and stand up. Even that simple movement caused your whole body to tremble. The idea of a train passing over you was becoming more appealing every minute; this pain and hurting seemed inexplicable otherwise. Your eyes began to wander around the room.

You were staying in a room where green was dominant. The walls were dark green. The room was illuminated by a dim yellow light coming from a large crystal chandelier. Years ago, you and Damian had changed the room's lighting to yellow, as you had discovered that yellow light was much easier on the eyes compared to white light. However, this information was not in your mind at the moment beside your whole life's memory.

Right next to your bed, there was a large wooden wardrobe. You wrapped your fingers around the handle and opened it. It was filled with clothes, leaving no empty space. Colorful fabric pieces patiently waited to be worn inside the dark brown wooden wardrobe. There were pictures hanging on the wardrobe door. In one of them, you were with the white-haired boy from earlier. It looked like you were playing PlayStation together. You had raised your right fist in a victorious pose, while the boy next to you furrowed his brows. The photo was taken from a distance.

Just below that picture was a selfie with an older looking man. He looked like he was quite nice and kind. You had raised two fingers to make a piece sign this time and smiled broadly. He, on the other hand, displayed a content smile and looked at the camera. "This is Alfred." You hadn't noticed that he had come up behind you while you were looking at the photos. Dick placed his finger on the picture of the boy above. "And this is Jason."

Although you felt the knowing feeling about names, you weren't be able to quite put your finger on it.

The next picture was taken from far. Someone was carrying you on a bridal style and looking at the camera. it seemed like you were trying your best to not to fall from his arms so you were kind of blurry. His green eyes seemed very warm unlike Damian's. You could almost sense it through the picture. He also had lots of freckles which gave him a lot warmer look. There was a note under the photo: 'Toronto'

"This is Bart Allen, he is a close friend of yours." You just nod. You could feel the awkwardness since he was telling about all these stuff, even though they were hanging on the wall in your room. You felt like all these pictures actually should brought something back.

Another picture was also taken from far. You were standing right between two beautiful woman. Although both of them had red hair, one of them had a darker color. the other one just had a red-ish color just like ginger. They were smiling widely while you were laughing, both of them hugging you. Dick put his finger just on a woman with darker hair. "This is Kate" and slide it over the other one. "This is Barbara."

Under that, there was another picture of you this time with Damian. You guys were sitting on a couch and had a cat between two of you. Even though it was a selfie, you could see both of your bodies thanks to camera's angle. Damian was smiling and had a black shirt on him with capital letters 'Uncle Damian' written on it. You were wearing the same shirt that says mother and even the cat also had one. It was so hard to believe that this Damian was the same person you saw earlier. In this picture he seemed so relaxed, happy?

Dick might have read your mind since he started talking: "Yeah, it must be hard for you to believe but just so you know, he loves you a lot that is why he was angry earlier." then he stopped for a minute before starting to talk again: "to be honest he is always angry." there was an awkward laugh after that. There was another picture next to yours and Damian's, it was with Dick.

He was wearing some kind of apron that says 'World's Greatest Grandma' on it. He was holding a pot and you had eggs in your hand, showing them off to your camera.

The inside of the wardrobe was filled with many pictures. Most of them included of Jason, Damian, and Dick, but you didn't continue looking because these pictures were reminders of the large part of your life that you had forgotten. You felt like shit, and still, a small part of you insisted that these things couldn't be true. You felt like a reader who was reading other people's stories. You couldn't tell if you were really in the present moment or if you were just having a simple dream, though, a nightmare would be more true. Everything felt so terrifying. Perhaps it was because of the guilt you placed on the memories you couldn't recall, or maybe it was due to the uneasiness from the fight you had witnessed some moments ago. When you found yourself taking a deep breath and pinching the bridge of your nose, as if trying to calm yourself down, you continued shaking your head and looking at the pictures. Dick opened his mouth, seemingly wanting to distract you, again:

" Almost everyone in these pictures are your siblings" he said, and your eyes widened in disbelief. You couldn't contain your astonishment. "Our parents must have worked really hard," slipped out of your mouth involuntarily, and Dick burst into a loud laughter, finding it the funniest thing in the world. After laughing for a few seconds, he composed himself and responded to you. "No, we're all adopted." he said. Then he paused for a moment and continued, "Well, except for Damian and you. You guys are biological siblings, twins to be exact." You nodded your head. Maybe that's why he was so tense. Although you couldn't fully grasp the topic of the fight, you found yourself involuntarily understanding his displayed behavior. Then he pointed his index finger at another picture on the other door of the wardrobe. "This is your mother," he said as he directed your attention to the picture. You saw one of the most beautiful women you've ever seen (you wouldn't remember even if you saw something prettier tho). Her green eyes were as sharp as Damian's. Her brown hair reached her waist, and the leather jacket she wore gave her a completely different aura. Despite her captivating gaze, the underlying danger could be easily sensed. This woman exuded an image of 'I love you, but i have no hesitation about killing you.' As you looked at her, a strange feeling arose within you. Longing? Guilt? No, it was neither of those. It was fear.

You closed the wardrobe door and continued to exploring the room. Similar pictures to the ones in the wardrobe were all over the walls. Then you noticed the bed standing on the right side. Unlike your bed, it was pitch black. Several katanas were hanging on the wall by on his bedside. His wardrobe was at the foot of the bed and, compared to yours, it was smaller and longer. When Dick noticed where you were looking, he felt the need to explain once again. "Damian is a little bit particular about this situation, he didn't want your rooms to be separated." You walked over to his area and looked at a few pictures hanging there. "You really love taking pictures," he said, and you felt a bit odd when he mentioned your characteristic to you, noticing his own awkwardness too as he moved behind you. "You have pictures with almost everyone." As you quickly scanned the walls of the room, you saw more pictures. While you were observing them, Dick's phone rang, and he asked for your permission to leave the room and without waiting for an answer he left.

While you were watching the pictures on the wall, there was a great chaos in the room below. Jason had informed Bruce about the incident and Bruce said he was going to come as soon as he could but since he was on a mission at the space station with Justice League, Jason wasn't seeing this happening anytime close. Meanwhile, Damian had tried to attack Tim seven more times, engaging in powerful fights that turned the entire room into a battlefield. While Jason tried to keep them apart, he was complaining about the situation and wishing he could use his weapons on them. He was too old for this fucking family drama.

"What is your problem!" Jason couldn't hold his anger anymore, tired of this bullshit. He knew how you were important to Damian but you were also important for them. Blood doesn't mean a shit. And fighting with each other? No it wasn't going to solve anything.

"My problem is Tim! He punched her so hard that she lost her fucking memory! Do you know how much power does he need to fucking achieve that Jason!" At this point he was breathing out fire. Yes, being angry was part of his character now but he never felt more angry all of his life. He didn't know if he was angry at Tim or himself or maybe even her sister for forgetting her. Even though he knew it wasn't in her hands to decide whether she was going to forget about him or not, how could she? They were together since they were born, they did everything together and now she wasn't even remembering her. He was angry at Tim for punching so hard, even though he was aware of the fact that you were way stronger than he could see, and even though this kind of mistakes could happen when they were sparring, it still was over using his power. Most importantly: he was angry at himself for letting you getting hurt.

"We were sparring for god's sake! I still have the fucking bruise from sparring with you last time. It's completely normal, stop blaming me!" Tim yelled this time. Jason sat on the couch and sighed.

"It is going to be a fucking long night."

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mischiefmaker615 · 8 months

Text

Bloodline (Pt.2)

Part 1

Rating: R dark themes

Summary: unable to gain children from his wife, Loki seeks out a mortal who can do it instead.

She hated herself for it, for not feeling as angry as she should towards the man that was using her. She shouldn’t be able to even look at him, let alone ask him to stay with her.. but here he was beside her, sitting down on the bed as they both kept eye contact to themselves. She was pregnant, and she trusted him that it was the truth, you’d think magic would be just as accurate as a doctor visit right? These past weeks of their.. ‘’routine’’, she’s become numb to his cruelty and- dare she say it, used to it. the struggle was gone..

‘’…you must really love this place.. to even go beyond the extent for it..’’ she whispered and her gentle tone made him turn and look at her, his expression still unreadable but it was gentle at the same time.

‘’I’m sure you’d do anything to protect your home.. the people you care about.. -I’m not expecting you to understand.. I’m not saying all this is right.. but..’’ he trailed off, not trying to justify that what he did was right, but.. he had too. He looked away from her, guilty making itself known after all these weeks of pushing it down.

‘’I’m sure I would understand if I had family.. I was orphaned as a child- to this day I’m not sure exactly what happened, grew up in the orphanage and got kicked out officially when I became of age. Lived every day just working, sleeping just to wake up and do it all over again-.. I didn’t have a purpose..’’ she explained, looking down at her hands as her heart beat past, not sure why she was giving her whole life story when she really should be killing him.. but where did her hate go?

‘’..didn’t?’’ Loki asked, looking at her as she finally raised her eyes to look at him back and she gave a mild shrug.

‘’one could argue that I can finally feel like I’m useful.. I’ve lived every day on repeat, no one back there would miss me.’’

Loki looked at her as if she were strange, raising a brow as he studied her features. ‘’..you were chosen because you resembled a goddess.. how do you find yourself unseen?’’

She sighed and her hand instinctually began playing with a lock of her hair, trying to register how she should feel that he called her beautiful, her cheeks reddened all the same. ‘’..others have different definitions and expectations as what they see as beautiful.’’

Loki merely shook his head, his mind wondering off as she looked at him as if reading his mind.

‘’not all mortals are idiots though.’’

The choice of words actually made Loki chuckle, knowing she knew what he had been thinking as those mortals had seemed to have terrible taste if they didn’t find her in their standards of beauty. ‘’well, you are most certainly the first mortal I’ve seen in my life time that I would call beautiful.’’

The conversed for a little while longer, small talk having a small hint of awkwardness to the whole thing considering how their relationship had started, but the small teasing here and there made it a bit easier to talk to each other. They mostly got to know each other, no one daring to talk about the whole reason why she was here, but merely about their lives, likes and dislikes- childhood and hardships. Loki most certainly surprised himself on opening up a bit to her, and the “venting session” as she called it, made him feel like there was an unknown weight off of his shoulders, as if he finally had someone he could talk too.

A feeling came to his chest, not guilt anymore- although it was very much still in his stomach. He hadn’t felt it in such a long time, not since he had started finding interest in Sigyn. Was it.. fondness to this particular woman before him? he half listened to what she was saying and upon realizing he was indeed feelings he was developing, he quickly stood up- startling her.

He kept his voice gentle with an apologetic bow ‘’I’m sorry love, I didn’t mean to frighten you, I just- I must depart right now- but I shall return.. to deliver dinner.’’

Another meal brought to her like a prisoner, and the mere sentence made her features lower just slightly- which didn’t go unnoticed by Loki as he looked away from her. ‘’..i shall return..’’ he promised, as if a second reminder would make her feel better- why did he care?

She was to be bred.. nothing more.. who was he to reassure? To explain himself to her.. of gods.. he cared.. he was guilty, he was growing fond of her.. why? She was indeed beautiful, his lust was getting extremely difficult to hold back as he longed to touch her, to have her come undone.. to have a connection deeper.. but her spirit, her fire and getting to know more of her life.. kept him wanting more..

“norns..’’

He cussed as he went down the halls in a rush, as if getting farther away from her room would help think all this wasn’t happening. His whole plan was simple: gain a child and that was all. Why.. did he have to fall for the mortal.

Yet he did just what he said. Upon delivering her evening meal, she asked him to stay.. and he did. The small voice in his mind told him he shouldn’t get attached and just leave once everything was finished upon stepping through her door, but it was to late. He was attached. They began speaking more, even laughing and Loki staying longer than he knew he should.

Sigyn would question his whereabouts, why his attitude had changed to a lighter tone but he merely reassured her that he was just content that Asgard had been safe through this time and would simply find different places to read- as to not cause suspicion nor would he be able to find him. part if him felt guilty at the same time that he was also betraying her, that although there was no real love towards her as a wife, he was still cheating on her behind her back. The other part of him felt alright with it because having a child would mean Asgard was secure and.. he finally was putting his happiness first..

That mortal woman was the first joy he had in ages only because he had fallen for her. It pained him to leave her and his loins ached for her. Ever since he found out she was pregnant, he had not touched her. Nor had he had time for himself and his wife would no longer suit his interests. Yet he got what he wanted, the child was damn near close to being born now, whenever he began to get hard when he would check on her, he would cut the meeting short and leave. He would not touch her now that he knew he no longer needed to.

An Asgardian child grew faster than a mortals, and the “potion” he had her drink daily allowed her body to adjust. Yet the due date came faster than he anticipated and although she felt fine like she wouldn’t go into labor that day, his magic told him it ad already begun. Despite her being confused, she always took his word for things because this was his realm, and he knew better so she trusted it.

He was able to convince her to fall asleep, so there would be even less pain and so that she wouldn’t get attached to the child if she saw him or her. A healer would be accompanying him and to her little knowledge, he had placed a spell so that she would forget most and think the one who had given birth was his wife.

Upon waking up, his precious mortal felt like nothing had ever happened. even her groin and stomach felt as if it were yesterday. Yet Loki stayed with her anyway while she got out of her daze, and to her surprise- she took his hand.

‘’what.. what happened?’’

‘’you have given birth love, the healer is now caring for the baby.’’ He said gently, sitting beside her on the bed as she lay still and looked up at him with confusion.

‘’oh.. and once the baby is all cared for?’’ she asked with hesitation.

‘’then our healer will lose all memory of her assistance and I will merely bring the child to Sigyn.. she will be a good mother, I promise..’’ he said gently, trying to ignore the guilt that rose again and how awful the words sounded leaving his mouth while she looked away from him.

‘’you will be a good father.’’

Loki’s lips parted, wanting to speak but words found it hard to leave his mouth. Her words were spoken true, he could sense that- even when he knew he had hurt her and all that he had done. He didn’t know what to say, he just gazed at her with the sudden need to protect, the gather her in his arms, to hold her.

‘’is it a girl or a boy?’’ her sudden words brought him back and he took a breath with a gentle whisper.

‘’it’s a baby girl.’’

Loki wasn’t able to see the small smile that tugged her lips, nor her tears as she kept her back to him. he had a hesitant hand raised to want to turn her towards him, but he stopped. He knew she was hurting, and all of this was because of him. turning away, he stayed with her a little while longer in silence before he finally left, hearing the faint cries through the door as soon as he shut it.

Damn it. damn it all…

He had held back tears upon seeing the child be born, but he didn’t want to go see her without.. her. For the mother not being able to see her child.. he understood the logic of it, but knew it was hard on her as well. And to not even being able to comfort her through it all. Damn it all!

He knew what he had to do.

The same boots that pounded through the halls to get her that day long ago pounded down the same halls to get her now. Loki practically ripped the doors open, startling her as she quickly wiped her tears from where she sat in a panic and looked at him concerned.

‘’what’s wrong? is the baby- what happened?’’ his darling mortal gasped as she saw the bruise on his cheek. She hesitated to see a small smile on his face despite it. ‘’..did Sigyn-‘’

‘’there is no more of Sigyn.. I’m done.’’

‘’but.. but didn’t you say the-‘’

‘’fuck the bloodline-‘’ Loki claimed, cutting himself short by the uncommon language that left his mouth he usually didn’t say. It must have been from spending time with her that he picked up some mild habits. Regaining himself, he took a deep sigh as he looked at her with a forced gentle voice.

‘’I’m done- I’m done with all of it.. you have been taken, then taken advantage of.. impregnated, isolated and now the child in which belongs to ‘us’ isn’t even able to be with you- I am the king of Asgard and I must protect its people, but if this is the king I have become then I will gladly step away from the thrown if it means I am to feel like this for the rest of my life!’’ he practically shouted at himself, looking away shameful as he paced, only to be stared at with wide eyes at his words.

‘’Loki..’’

‘’I have fallen for you love.. I can no longer contain myself nor deny it.. there is nothing I can do to rewrite the wrongs I have done.. only to try to improve on what I do now. You will be returned to Midgard with the child and-‘’

‘’no!-‘’

Her words stopped him as he stared at her, her voice being the loudest she had ever let it as he stayed put, watching her get off the bed and stand before him, grasping the nightgown to her body.

‘’..she needs a father.. I can’t do it by myself out there.. to not know who you are.. its as if its best if you and Sigyn keep her to yourself so she can grow up with two p-‘’

‘’Y/N..’’

Y/N stopped, being called by her name for the first time as she shook where she stood, tears threatening to run down her cheeks as she bit her lip.

‘’the child will have a father.’’ He promised and kneeled down before her, his head down as he felt his own tears threaten to fall. ‘’I will do everything in my power to help you, to help you both, to be there, to support you.. to love her.. and to love you if only you’d allow me to.. I’m done here. I can’t deny my feelings for you any longer.. and if you are to reject me, then allow me to love her as a father..’’ he whispered and closed his eyes as he breathed.

The hand on his cheek made him open his eyes as he looked up to her gentle ones, tears falling down the cheeks of both as he leaned his face into her palm. ‘’we will have you Loki.. it will be okay..’’

Loki slowly placed a hand on her own, knowing there would be much to take place but he knew the truth was better than to live a lie of lies and guilt. Sigyn would be okay, and deep down he knew she knew they were over a long time ago. As king, laws will have to change. It wont be easy, but he’d find a way to make them possible, and right now she was looking more of a being with power than he ever did as he slowly stood up but she kept his hand in hers.

‘’..let me see her..’’ she whispered.

She will be a great mother..

‘’yes.. my queen..’’

Final ♥

#loki odinson #loki god of mischief #loki x reader smut #loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki x reader #lokifluff #loki smut #loki fluff #loki

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smolbean-17 · 3 months

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Additional Theories for Season 3

Hunter

Hunter will use a lightsaber

Omega and Hunter REAL HUG

Hunter finally discovers his purpose and resolves his arc

Hunter finally loses it and goes Joel Miller on everyone’s ass

Hunter will make riskier decisions since Omega isn’t around. He won’t be playing it safe. He might even make some morally questionable choices.

Hunter will have a hard time trusting Crosshair when he comes back to them.

Cad Bane and Hunter rematch (neither will lose/it will be a draw)

Fennec and Hunter banter

He will be the only main character to die (the more and more I hear about season 3 and the more I think about it, him being the only death besides Tech makes a lot of sense. They’ve been leading up to it a really long time)

He will tell Omega he loves her

He will hand off responsibility for Omega to Crosshair, showing that he finally trusts him again. Mutual forgiveness between them.

Omega will take his bandana/helmet

Tech

Tech will return in a way we don’t expect (if he returns at all)

Tech is not the mystery soldier

Tech’s goggles will have a tracker in them (put there by Hemlock. It will be how he finds Pabu)

The team will visibly struggle without him there

Lots of callbacks to Tech

Phee will be shown missing him

Crosshair

Crosshair will continue to struggle with decision making, Omega will serve as his conscience

He will struggle greatly with PTSD

He will reunite with his fam mid season

Crosshair and bros HUG

Crosshair will be sassy with his bros again

Crosshair will grow in his relationship with Omega

Sickest Crosshair sniping yet

He’ll compliment Omega on her shooting skills

Hunter will hand off caring for Omega to Crosshair (which will be such a great resolution to both of their arcs)

Wrecker

Wrecker will showcase more of his emotional intelligence

Wrecker will be desperate to not lose anymore of his family

He will blow up so many things

Wrecker more subdued/sad/thoughtful

Origins of Lula revealed

Either Lula is left with Omega or at Hunter’s grave

Echo

Echo will leave with Rex for good

He will get his handprint back (I’m thinking in the red blood of someone he loves this time…)

Echo finally gets a normal arm

Echo survives, fate unknown so he can be in other Star Wars content (Echo base etc)

Callback to Fives

Echo SURVIVES (he won’t die. They would be showing him in trailers much more if they were planning on killing him off)

Omega

Confirmation that she is Force Sensitive

Omega’s purpose revealed

Omega tied to Rey somehow (?)

Flashback of Omega meeting TBB as babies

Omega being strategic and getting herself and Cross out

She will have a bond with Emerie and change her for the better (like Omega always does. She just makes people better)

Ventress will take interest in her and vice versa

Omega will help resolve the tension between Crosshair and Hunter

She will survive to the end of the war. She will be in future Star Wars content.

Asajj Ventress

Asajj will force choke the boys (that’s a given)

She’ll probably flirt with them too

She will team up with the boys (after she tries to kill them first, and she will almost succeed because they honestly don’t stand a chance against her)

She will have a particular relationship/role to play with Omega

Quinlan Vos cameo (he will be with Asajj)

Others

Cody will return

Cody’s fate won’t be revealed in TBB so they can use him for other content

TBB get a dog

Flashbacks of TBB Clone Wars Era

One of the boys will actually cry actual tears

Someone will get a life-threatening injury

Galen Erso appearance

More Director Krennic

Pabu will be compromised and destroyed

Pabu will be revealed to be Scarif

Bad Batch family shot mirroring that scene on the Kamino landing platform in Season 1

Force sensitive clones

Darth Vader cameo (albeit brief)

Nemec and Fireball will die

Fennec teams up with and leaves on good terms with the boys

Fennec gives the boys a hard time

Snoke reveal

Death Star references galore

Final Clone War/Uprising

#the bad batch #star wars #clone wars #sw tbb #tbb #star wars tbb #bad batch #the bad batch theories

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fullmetalpotterhead · 3 months

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I think there is a cruelty in expecting your idea of a happy ending is the one a person wants for themself and I think it’s an idea we see within tgcf AND within the fandom treatment of the characters.

(Warning below cut for novel spoilers and also the fact some of you may get defensive. Absolutely enjoy fandom the way you want I just think narratively and analytically it feels hollow).

FX and MQ struggle with who XL has become because they believe they understand who he is supposed to be. They believe they know best the happy ending he is supposed to want. Their idea of a happy ending for him does not include scrap collecting or ghost husbands. It does not include roaming around the mortal realm. And so it is hard for them to fully face who XL is and the fact he can be happy in a way that is different from this preplanned scenario for him. (One that admittedly a younger him would agree with! Their belief is well founded, it’s just misguided.)

And mostly, I see fans understand this. That XL’s happy ending is the soft epilogue of a quiet life not caring much about heaven or important events but doing what he wants to spread kindness and enjoy love. But sometimes still I see fans who talk about how perfect he’d be as the new heavenly emperor and I wonder “don’t you get it? Don’t you see that he doesn’t want that?” The responsibility of that. The burden of managing heaven like that. It’s not what XL has ever really striven for even when he was more “ambitious”. He’s the kind who likes to go down and get his hands on things, not sit back and take this mantle of ultimate authority that ties him up in buerocratic red tape. He’s never wanted to manage the gods, that’s not the kind of power he sits happiest in. He could be happy in spite of being given such a role, but when I see fans give him this they pose it like a gift. Like an honor. It is neither of those things to a man who genuinely does not even care anymore about being seen as a god by anyone but his husband.

And then I see Xuan Ji. A ghost who lingers in obsessive, crazed love-hatred. And when she fades, it is because she has finally let go of her attachment to PM. She’s at peace. She can rest. Her reason for lingering isn’t like HC’s, it was never a happy thing. She lingered in traditional ghostly fashion as a sick twist against nature and when at last she was settled she could finally move on to let her soul continue to her next life instead of being trapped within her crazed grief. So it’s important she fades. It’s important she finally gives up and rests. To linger any longer isn’t her happy ending. To let go is to move forward for her. It’s not that her happy ending was dying— she was already long dead. All that remained was unwell. It’s not the same as killing her off, she’s not human. MXTX is giving her a chance at rebirth by letting her fade.

The one I see the most is SQX. I see many fans want SQX to ascend again. Many fans write and talk as if in a few years SQX could ascend on their own merit and return to heaven with grace and that would be their glorious happy end. But such an end… it really feels against the spirit of SQX’s own wishes. SQX lives as a beggar with other beggars in repetenance for what his brother did. He finds new friends and new joy among his fellow beggars. He is resolved and ready to eventually die a mortal death. His brother, his closest family, is now gone and he himself has lived centuries of a very good life. Lived far beyond the years of the average happy mortal. (SWD, in trying to bait HX points it out: they’ve already won. They lived worshipped and comfortable for centuries as gods.)

To ascend again is, for one, not something SQX was ever capable of himself which is part of the point, but second of all… to what end would he ascend for? To what purpose would he desire immortality? His family is gone. His worldview is drastically changed by what he’s gone through. Could he happily return to a frivolous life in heaven? Should he go through the gossip that would no doubt follow him in heaven regarding the circumstances of his first ascension and fall forever? Why? What does heaven and immortality give him that he is lacking in his end now? It doesn’t offer any more family or stability than he’s already found for himself. He’s carved out his happy ending with a family of beggars and he’ll carry the weight of what his brother did and one day he’ll die a mortal death. As we all will. That’s not a bad thing. That’s not an unhappy ending.

XL’s happy ending was not found in heaven, but heaven will forever be part of his reality. Many fans seem to understand this. So I don’t understand why that logic doesn’t follow SQX. To return to heaven doesn’t feel like properly facing his character arc to me. It feels like the same thing FX is trying to do in believing XL’s happiest ending is fixed to the picture perfect ideal. Happy endings are personal things that should suit the one who earned them. And this is the one SQX has crafted. I think he’s done a rather beautiful job.

#tgcf #again this isn’t a personal attack against those who like the other things #it’s a love letter to the fact that a happy ending is a deeply personal thing

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look-how-they-massacred-them · 7 months

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Submission reason:

So, they establish Steve Rogers as this scrappy punk with a problem with authority and an unkillable bond with his best friend Bucky, right? And then they spend the next several movies developing him. He brings down a significant portion of the government, in part to save his best friend. He starts a war, also to save his best friend. He was willing to let his best friend beat him to death, and the last thing he would have said was to tell him to do it, because he was with him ""'til the end of the line."" He dropped the shield, the symbol of who he was and who he had become, the one that had been with him since 1943, because he was choosing loyalty to his best friend instead. He would kill god himself if it meant saving Bucky. He would pick a fight with someone four times his size if it meant protecting people and their rights. He has a big, long character arc about how he adjusts to living in a new century, and how, despite being a man out of time, he finds a new sort of space for himself in the century he's in. And then what do they do? When it comes time to write him out, they have him choose to go back in time, abandoning his friends and the life he had made for himself, in order to go back in time to the 1950's of all times, to marry a woman he kissed ONCE and is STRONGLY implied to have nazi sympathies to put it nicely. And the Google form is bugging out so I can't add any more

Spent a long time getting over time warp trauma only to abandon all his friends to run to the past for a woman who already lived her own full life (which he then erased/replaced/negated) and whom he already had closure with. NEVER NOT MAD ABOUT THIS

1) The third movie of the Captain America movie was altered to give Robert Downey Jr more screentime so he would get a bigger check. Thus, huge chunks of Steve (Captain America's) last movie are dedicated to a character that is unrelated to the plot of the preceding Cap film. This takes time away from all the Cap trilogy protagonists, including Steve. 2) Endgame, the final movie featuring Steve as Captain America, centers Steve's emotional journey on Peggy Carter. The end of Cap 1 and the beginning of Cap 2 emphasize how losing Peggy hurt Steve. However, Marvel pretty much fucked up by having Steve abandon the present day in order to have a life with Peggy. It rejects the investment in Steve's friendships with Sam & Bucky. It places a heterosexual marriage in mid-1900s as markedly more valuable than having multiple friendships in the present, which seems to cater to the Make America Great Again fanaticism that was surging in the US at the time of the film. It also takes the subplot of Steve's PTSD in Cap 2 and concludes his character by having him return to the past & unwriting much of the loss he experienced. This invalidates the Cap 2 + Cap 3 healing narrative of Steve making a life for himself despite trauma & loss. 3) Cap 2: The Winter Soldier shows Steve struggling with loneliness & loss of purpose. Sam & Natasha, minor protagonists, have their own emotional journeys. The movie is named after Bucky, Steve's best friend who has secretly been tortured and used by HYDRA. Steve is devasted about Bucky, and the emotional climax of the film features them fighting and conversing. This is a lot of investment in these two characters!! Cap 3 diverting screentime away from these 4 characters is bullshit, and Endgame barely showing the two interact -- and then having Steve leave Bucky without showing any internal struggle relating to that decision -- is an illogical waste of an interesting relationship that was built over the course of three movies. 4) Steve's character is inconsistent as fuck across the non-Cap-Trilogy films. It's because Marvel's staff/director choices were a mess. Whack af imo.

In Age of Ultron, Steve literally says ""Family, stability... The guy who wanted all that went in the ice 75 years ago. I think someone else came out."" And then he stays in the past with Peggy?? Abandons Bucky and the life he's built for someone he already saw die? The Steve I know has moved on from his past. And then he becomes an old man despite the fact that Bucky has barely aged in that same amount of time and they both have the same super serum in them. One of the worst ways I've ever seen a character written out of a franchise

Entire arc for 5+ movies was about learning how to adapt to living in the future, finding a team/friends/family he trusted and loved, and doing the right thing despite all of the baggage he had about his past; Avengers Endgame ignored ALL of that in favor of him choosing to return to the 1940's to be with a woman he had finally let go of, ignoring all development he'd had over nearly a decade of movies.

Sent back into the past to live an ‘ideal’ life in the 1950s, marry a woman who had canonically married someone else, and who, incidentally enabled a fascist death cult to take over SHIELD.

They spent many films building up Steve's relationship with his best friend Bucky, the only other person in the world who understood what he was going through who he constantly promised to stay with ""till the end of the line"" only to have Steve go back in time to live a life with Peggy Carter, a woman who told him to move on, leaving his friend all alone with no warning. He abandoned not only the person he had more of a bond with and more emotional scenes with than the woman he went back in time for, he also essentially abandoned his team and just his ability to help people in general despite the fact that helping others is the core of his character and the reason why he got his powers in the first place. (There's also the muddled implications involved with the fact that in going back in time he would have prevented the man Peggy was supposed to end up with from being with her but I won't go into all that mess).

Despite the whole ‘frozen for 70 years’ thing, he still got used to a new life. He had a girlfriend, multiple best friends, just an entire life. But no~ he had to pine after the dead girlfriend he knew for maybe a year and moved on from out of Nowhere and decide to rewrite her history for her to stay with her. Granted. I, as an aroace btw, would also love Peggy Carter. But it just came out of nowhere?! They both deserve better tbh

Propaganda:

He could've been so much cooler/tougher/"more punk" if the MCU wasn't scared of any sign of alternative culture from their cookie cutter All-American Boy fantasy.

ENDGAME destroyed Steve’s character.

I understand a lot of people have mixed or negative feelings about the MCU but I don't think that should be a reason to overlook how much they destroyed his character just to give him an ending and get him out of the MCU.

(I copied the wrong photo and it won’t let me fix it. Sorry. I can send in another if you can’t crop that one. I follow you so…) They thought it was a great idea for him to help raise his niece that he slept with in present day. Just saying why make it awkward man Also! This clearly had a v bad impact on said niece bc she went from SHIELD AGENT (good guy for the most part) to a leader of a criminal/gun smuggling operation. Good job Steve/writers what a sound decision

See above

we never saw Steve's mom, Sarah Rogers, but Tony Stark's mom appears in TWO scenes in the third (read: FINAL) Cap film???!!!?? In STEVE'S movie?!!?? WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!

#look how they massacred them poll #look how they massacred my boy #steve rogers #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #captain america #mcu steve rogers #propaganda post

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dendrophalaen · 5 months

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my thoughts on godzilla minus one

tl;dr i had a religious experience (positive) and it may be my new favorite godzilla movie

i'm going to try to organize my thoughts lmao i have never done a film analysis or review

story

i went in knowing next to nothing, so i was very afraid this was going to be heavy on the imperialist propaganda and reminiscing on the "good old days" of the japanese military

however i was pleasantly surprised to see that it was quite anti-government :]

loved the delivery of the themes of "all lives being precious" and "living on for yourself as well as for the sake of others" – not hammy or blunt!

FORESHADOWING OF THE EJECTION SEAT? chef's KISS we love picking up what the movie is putting down and getting to see the payoff

speaking of foreshadowing:

dr. noda: [takes noriko's picture]

me: oh no she's going to die

i spent like the last quarter of the movie with a headache because i was clenching my teeth and holding in tears after noriko's death ("death") AND koichi planning to blow himself up and orphan akiko

and all the ex-navy guys rallying together to defeat godzilla

i am not immune to classic story beats

semi-related i thought noriko would be covered in radiation burns, but then i realized a depiction of that would probably be insensitive

also the guys measuring radiation in plastic costs? come on now i know we weren't fully educated in the risks of radiation but there must've been some sort of better ppe

characters

i enjoyed like every character which is rare for me in a godzilla film

koichi just can't catch a break. this man gained so much trauma in a short amount of time, like he doesn't have ptsd because the trauma is ONGOING. i think he's my favorite and it's very easy to root for him

his introduction is of him as a shaky baby-faced pilot and then you find out he was supposed to be a kamikaze pilot like goddamn

i liked noriko's assertiveness ("hey i'm staying in your house now :)") and her ability to see kindness in koichi and sumiko

her struggle of wanting to become independent is very relatable. you could see the bittersweetness in her eyes showing that she felt guilty yet grateful for koichi's support........

i was surprised how quickly sumiko agreed to taking care of akiko? but it makes sense since she was (is) a mother and could not bear to see another child suffer, and akiko gave her life a new purpose

i would've liked more focus on the female characters and i don't think it's fair to just blame it on the era :playdead:

i really liked the chemistry between dr. noda, captain akitsu, and mizushima

dr. noda in particular felt like a nice foil/parallel to serizawa from the 1954 movie; he's also a scientist but he's much more personable(?)/"human"

dr. serizawa was my favorite in 1954 but he was very anguished and set on making reparations by killing godzilla (and koichi could be a parallel to him in that regard)

noda focused on protecting the living, not avenging the dead

ough mizushima. being a Youth who feels useless sure hits home

i'd say tachibana is my least favorite just by comparison to everyone else, but he's honestly so valid for his whole deal

visuals and sound

very elegant color grading, costuming, and set design!

i don't know film girl help

GOOD SOUNDTRACK the music set the scenes so well

i joked about getting my eardrums blasted by godzilla but he really was that loud. as he should be

godzilla (design, abilities, etc)

SWEET JESUS THIS IS THE SCARIEST GODZILLA BY FAR

godzilla: [shows up in the first 10 minutes with blair witch shaky cam]

me: the filmmakers are not messing around they mean BUSINESS

the rampage on odo island was rightfully terrifying

i love his texture and face. the scrunkliness of heisei with the horrifying pain of shin

i think his head is a bit small for his body, like if it was 5% bigger it would be perfect

loved the visuals of his scales flaking off after getting bombed

the nuclear fallout when he used his atomic breath in tokyo was awe-inducing

great use of godzilla as a war allegory

i saw the movie in d-box so the shotgun-blast of heat ray was intense

also coolest godzilla death. sick decapitation

the plan to imprison him in bubbles and give him the bends felt a bit silly in the moment but highlighted how desperate everyone was for ANYTHING to work

really liked how godzilla was more like an animal or unstoppable force of nature without a clear motive

i mean the only emotion you could ascribe is probably RAGE

sidenote i did think it was a lil funny whenever an object was flung through the air from offscreen. there goes godzilla having another tantrum

#maybe the high will wear off and i will have more critical thoughts later lmao #dellabeatalks #godzilla #godzilla minus one #godzilla minus one spoilers #godzilla spoilers

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writingcold · 20 days

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Hello! Welcome to Chapter 7.1 and 7.2 of CD&FE.

Pairing: Jake X Female Reader

Summary: This is an AU that starts with the release of GVF’s first EP, Black Smoke Rising, and follows along life paths over the course of twenty plus years. I’m just going to say I’m smiling.

Content warnings: Total Fluff. Like Josh’s hair at Red Rocks.

Word Count: approx. 6.2K

We’re almost there. I’m picturing @edgingthedarkness and @takenbythemadness rubbing their hands over the pending last part of this chapter. It’s… I can hear them cackling over it still. But that’s next week. We’ll just swoon together this week, okay?

CD&FE, Part 7.1: Jake’s POV

We needed to slow down a bit. Our families were feeling the effects of us always on the road. Danny was a single dad and Sam was struggling to keep his own marriage together. When things got super serious about priorities, it was decided that it would not kill us to pump the brakes. We would tour heavily the first year out after an album, but then taper off, picking festivals and one offs that were more friendly to the family schedules. This had a ripple effect for all of us - Danny had more time to spend in his folk sphere and play as a session musician for many of his friends. Sam was really making strides in his production interests, going so far as starting his own company that kept him busy enough to settle his bouncy nature. Josh had found a niche that satisfied his time with a camera.

That left me. I had a litany of projects with other bands and musicians, which was great. But what was keeping me busy in all that newly found downtime was creating tech for rigs. I had three different editions with a large guitar company issued, along with pedals, and even a few unique electronic pieces that I held patents to.

I had found a balance between my commitments with the band, with my commitments to tinkering with the tech side, and being able to fucking live. I was able to pursue interests apart from music. I traveled - mostly alone. It was strange, but I found solace in silent spaces. It was more than enough to keep myself sane.

I had a string of relationships that served their purposes at their given time, but nothing stuck for longer than a few months. I was happy. No matter what, I was happy. I felt healthier than I had felt in years. I got to spend an abundant amount of time with Dad and his bands. It had become more important since the old man was beginning to actually feel his age. We’d spend days going from tiny bar to tiny amphitheater to take in acts that we would debate over and appreciate together.

We were returning to the states after touring Europe in support of our eighth album release, ready to strike out across the States and Canada. I knew at some point I needed to look at the pending schedule, but we had a few weeks off. I found myself at my cabin close to Yankee Springs. Childhood nostalgia aside, it was the best retreat that I could find after the first part of the tour. The Spring air was crisp and the scrap of snow that still haunted the ground made sure that I was mostly alone in the area. By the end of the first week, I was actually sleeping like a normal fucking human, and behaving like one, too.

I finally was able to wrap my head around getting back into work and after bantering back and forth with Sam about meetings with management, I looked at the pending schedule. St. Paul was towards the beginning of the Midwest stretch. I closed that shit down and walked out onto the porch with a fresh cup of coffee and my pack of smokes to settle into my old man rocking chair to watch the day go by. I felt calm as the day whittled away. My thoughts bent back to Ann Arbor and that girl that had caught me absolutely despising myself for resorting to flirting to get people to see our show. She had captured my imagination the moment I saw the Deep Purple album between her fingers. She had my spirit the moment she walked out of my hotel room door without a goodbye.

Every time my path crossed hers, I fell harder for her. Each time we parted, the longer it took to recover. She took parts of my heart every chance she got, while leaving me with parts of her own in hopes of returning to reclaim. We had been through St. Paul a few times, but I actively avoided any contact. I supposed that was fear on my part. I had been with Clara. I was not that guy. The last time through, however, I was alone, but I was healing. I didn’t have the balls to check her socials. I didn’t have the fortitude to see if she was still with him. I just hoped that she was happy.

I was not on the rotation for the big meetings with the suits this time around - Sam and Josh had drawn the short straws, they would whine about it and I just quietly flipped them off. It gave me a few more days up north. Danny brought his boys and we spent time down at the lake and running through the woods. It felt good. It felt like I was strong. Ronnie and her family joined us, rounding out our nights with laughter and kids playing. It was hard not to feel the mind tug back to easier times.

Tour started in Nashville and moved east, then across the south, heading west until we landed in San Francisco. We turned north and worked our way back east with the intent of finishing in Detroit. Despite small hiccups and a few of us being dogged by respiratory illnesses, we were cruising right along at a good clip. We had built in family time every few weeks, taking a break to soak up kids and spouses/partners just for the sanity of Josh and Sam. It was working well. We had one such break between Rapid City and St. Paul. Because of school, Danny found himself stuck hanging out with me as we waited for Josh and Sam to have their time. We decided to push on to the Twin Cities, taking in the river and hanging out.

Wednesday I found myself itching to find her. A voice in the back of my head was whispering, but I wasn’t paying much attention until it was nearly four in the morning. I decided to check to see if she was even bothering with socials any more. I was pleasantly surprised to find that she had posted three months prior - a picture of her with a group of friends. She looked different. Beautiful as ever, but there was something missing. A shine? I noticed that her smile was not as warm, her eyes were not as bright. I felt a hurt pass over my chest as I scrolled back through, finding no evidence of him. Was she alone? I didn’t dare to text the old number I had still residing in my contact list, but I had pulled it up and stared at the picture of the cottage that I had as the profile picture.

I convinced Danny to go to that pub she had taken me to. I somehow remembered that there was live music on Thursday nights. ‘Perhaps’ was the word that I was thinking about throughout the day. I had no actual guarantee that she was even still in St. Paul. I had just this tiny hope that she would somehow know that I was in town. I knew her company was once again handling the graphics and ads for the show. I also knew that her company was handling not just the show in Minnesota, but in Des Moines, all three shows in Chicago, Milwaukee, and Detroit. Though it was someone else’s name attached to the team, I hoped that she had seen us on the roster, just as in times before.

The pub had changed little from the one time I had been there, however, by the time we arrived, it was much more crowded. I won’t lie and say that I didn’t spend my first twenty minutes looking around to see if she was there, because I did. Danny was in conversation already with the bartender about the band that was in the middle of setting up on the small stage. My eyes wandered around, landing on the booth that we had shared. Everything with Y/n had been natural. Never rushed. Quick to laughter. Always savoring every moment we had together. It was like we knew our time was always fleeting and we just needed to absorb whatever we could. Problem was - my being wanted it like a drug. Wanted her more than anything to just stay.

We settled into dinner and a fresh round of beers as the band began to play - mostly covers of well trod tunes. And they were good. I sometimes missed the days of finding joy in just playing to play. There was something to be said to get to hone an entire show, crafting how each piece was played over the course of a tour, but something else entirely to just being in the moment and the honesty in something so small. Three songs into the set, however, I heard a familiar muted sound. My brain ran through the guitarist’s rig like one of those fucking TV moments where the character figures out brain surgery or something. I glanced at Danny before I made my move towards the stage.

I pointed to the pedal and amp while catching the guitarist’s eye. He looked at me like I was about to touch his grail or something. I shrugged and started to turn when the most god awful shriek came across the speakers. He had such a look of panic that I had to help at that point. I grabbed the single pedal, disconnecting and tearing off the back. It was totally fried inside.

“Fuck no,” he gasped as he knelt down.

“Keep playing,” I remarked as I shoved my fingers around the hot wires.

It was a fairly easy fix, but I needed more cabling. I tucked behind the amps, finding what I needed and restrung the whole bit. By the time I returned to the pedal, six phones were out and up with faces that were beaming behind them. I smiled and waved, knowing full well my anonymity was blown. Oh fucking well.

“You’ve done this before,” the guitarist said as I finished hooking him back up.

“Yeah, Coachella was interesting. Another time in Mexico City. Nearly blew up somewhere in Italy once… Imagine doing this with a few thousand eyes on you,” I snickered as I took my bow and backed away.

I was polite and stood for a few fan pictures before making my way back to my nearly cold dinner. Danny grinned as I reached for my beer.

“Show off,” he snarked, leaning his back against the bar top.

“Poor kid didn’t know he was about to literally go up in flames,” I said before shoving a french fry in between my teeth.

Their song wrapped and the singer pointed us out with a big “thank you to Jake fuckin’ Kiszka for your amazing assist”, to which all I could to do is fight an eyeroll and cheer them with a lift of my beer. By the time I pushed away my plate and finished our drinks, we were ready. I got the band’s credentials from the pub manager. I wanted to be sure to send that kid a proper pedal and perhaps some gear, just to help them out, even if he never made it out of the bar scene. There was no hope of seeing her in the wild, so what was the point of hanging out? By the time we reached the hotel, our social media manager was on our asses about the “occurrence”. She scolded us for not taking video ourselves as that’s the shit that gets eaten up. We should just be thankful that there were a few steadfast fans that were being super positive on the feeds. Sometimes, this business takes all the fun from the part that really only held what was important to me.

We were playing Target Stadium come Saturday. Friday, we welcomed Josh and Sam back in and we spent the evening just going over the set list and catching up on the family. Mom and Dad would be there for each show from here through Detroit. It was good to have them close. I went to bed alone, knowing that she was out there, close, but not nearly close enough.

Sound check went fine. It was not the biggest venue we had played, but it was large. It was something to have our sound pulsing through the air and striking the empty seats. I was retreating off the stage when I saw a familiar figure, one that I thought I would not be seeing. Her face was shadowed as she was talking to a few of the suits that were in attendance, but when her eyes met mine, there was a shine that I had desperately missed. The slow smile that tugged and pulled across her lips set me on an edge that I could only tumble down from. My feet turned towards her direction, and I was unable to even think about stopping from my path towards her.

“Deep Purple,” I said as I approached.

The warmth of her laugh healed the distance. She wrapped her arms around my shoulders as she stepped in close to me. I felt all of me melt against her and hold on for dear life. I breathed her in as I nuzzled into her neck. I could care less of how it looked. I felt her chest quiver against mine and knew she was moved just as much as I.

“I’ve been looking for my mouse,” I whispered and smiled when I heard her breath catch in her throat.

She moved just enough to allow her lips to meet mine in a chaste kiss. I could taste tears and wasn’t sure if they were hers or my own. We hid against each other until we could both recover. I was sure my heart was leaping within my chest when I saw her eyes filled with the spark that had been missing in the pictures I had just seen of her.

“I’ve missed this face,” she said quietly, tracing her fingers down my jaw.

I could not stop myself from taking all of her in - the fine laugh lines at the corners of her mouth and eyes. The way her cheek blushed when she realized I was studying her. How her hands would not leave my body for more than a second. Damn, she was the most beautiful she had ever been if I had to compare to all of our meetings. She had taken my breath away and all of my reason with it.

Josh called from behind me and I felt the moment get yanked away. There were a few items left on the day that I had committed to and could not be put off. I cursed as she frowned, which was only mirroring my reaction.

“I should’ve-” she started, withdrawing from me.

“Wait. I have these promotions, then…”

“I knew you were here, Jake. I should’ve reached out. You have no time for this.”

I cursed again as I looked back at my waiting twin and Mom, both wearing the same mischievous look. “I have another break in about three weeks. Will you be here?”

She touched my hair, passing her fingertips across the streaks of gray amongst brown that I had allowed to be seen. “I’ll be here. Same number. Just…”

It was the best I could hope for. By the time I hit the stage that night, it was like I was weightless. I’m sure my brothers were taken aback by my energy of the evening, but they could fuck off. Mom hugged me tight that night and asked if that was the girl I’d been waiting for - the girl that held me like I was her life.

“I’ve waited for her for so long. I hope I can prove it to her that it’s finally our time,” I said, as she held onto me.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so happy, honey,” she said, filling me once again with all of the emotions of earlier.

The joy that had infused me was only spiked further as my phone pinged a notification when we were loading up on the buses. It was from her. I waited until I was away from curious eyes to open it.

I’ve made some changes.

I had no idea what she meant, but I desperately needed to find out.

CD&FE, Part 7.2: Her POV

Four words had never felt so heavy, and yet so freeing at the same time.

I’ve made some changes.

Four words that I hoped were enough to convey that my path had been lost, found and re-paved since our last meeting. My life with Frank had been beautiful. My life with Frank as we tried to make the long distance between us work was not so beautiful. We tried. There was no leeway for him - he had to be in Paris. I had a little bit of give, working from his tiny little rooms that the university had provided, but my company was once again expanding. I needed to be present to woo new clients. I was needed to be present to ensure the quality of our work to our established clients who preferred to work with me in person. It became us trying to prop up tent poles for a tent so riddled with holes and flooding with water that neither of us could survive.

In the end, it felt bitter to be walking away after so much was put into the relationship. It took more than a while to recover. I fought from throwing myself back into work - which would have been the easiest thing to do. Bury myself in hours away from home; away from being alone. I sold the apartment that we had so fallen in love with. Everything was very civil in regards to dividing up the holdings. I was thankful for that. I found a little craftsman home from the early 1900s that was further out of the city on a scrap of land where I didn’t have neighbors two feet away from me. It was… nice. I continued to work from home three days a week. I somehow found a balance - one that I knew I had been lacking.

I took time to go home to my parents. I took time to spend with my siblings and their families. I took time to absorb Pat and Sidney’s family. I took time to mourn my time with Frank. Finally, I took time to really be well within myself. I took about six weeks off, first to move into the new space, then to just be a regular human. I did travel back to Duluth, but did not stay in the cottage that I had with Jake. I walked the trails that we had slipped and slid across together. I went to the mansion, but this time the gardens were in full bloom. I knew my spirit bled for him. I realized that there was no one else that I wanted. There was no one else that understood me like Jake did; despite our time together adding up to little more than thirteen days. DAYS.

At first, I did not want to believe that this deep seeded need was love for a man I knew in such an ephemeral manner. I had promised that man to latch onto someone who could love me where I was. And I did love Frank. I am convinced that I loved him deeply. However, there was always a dogged feeling that not all of my needs were being met - not the way that Jake fulfilled me. What was wrong with me that I couldn’t fully accept that fact.

I celebrated my forty-third birthday by doing nothing. I was by no means feeling old or sad about my age. Fuck that. I was feeling better than I had in years. I was strong and independent and … When I had seen that the GVF ticket had been passed along to my old position that was now occupied by Cody Youngblood, I knew perhaps I was ready. I had sheltered in place the last time they had blown through town. This time, however, I paid attention. I was upper, administrative management now, no need to sit in on the tasks that were once so important to me. But I did take notice and follow the progress through. I wondered if any of them realized that it was now my company that was handling them throughout the Midwest stretch. We had our tendrils reaching across the states and even into Toronto.

I had checked the schedule of shows, knowing that this account was huge compared to even a few years prior. Live acts had changed considerably with the advent of having streamed shows across multiple venues. GVF were part of a dying breed that some speculated would be relegated back to playing on street corners and honky tonk bars. But the band was persevering - along with many others that were proving that live music - not streamed performances - were still best practice. I was stuck in Des Moines with a project that had simply imploded when I knew there was a break before playing the area in Minneapolis. The client was pissed off that we had followed their wishes to a ‘t’ and it fell apart just as the project manager had predicted. I soothed the ruffled feathers and salvaged what I could before trudging home, afraid that I was going to be too late.

While on the plane, Pat sent me a link with a question if that was ‘my’ guitar player. A friend of his had been at the pub that night and had video showing Jake helping a band out. I stared into my screen. What didn’t seem real was followed by all sorts of accounts that Jake had helped out a young guitarist during their set. There were pictures splashed all over. Each new picture came with a fresh fight to catch my breath. I had to get home. I needed to make my way to him.

I was a ball of anxiety as I dressed and prepared to get into the sound check that was scheduled. Cody was to be there taking care of our company’s tasks, but I thought dropping in would look good on such a large, long-term account. At least that was my cover. I passed through security and surprised Cody as he was running through his final digital checks. It was an amazing set up. It was hard not to feel the energy in the air. We were deep in the guts of the stadium when the sound vibrated through my form. Jake’s playing was unmistakable. I smiled as we walked up through the layers of concrete until we were in the open air. A group of techs were standing to the side, making adjustments and honing in on the sound that was needed. We moved towards a group of management that we knew, and were going over the final touches as the check came to a close.

My chest was on the verge of rupture when the band started down the main stairs that would lead them right past us. I kept my attention where Jake would eventually appear, but I turned away as I heard commotion towards the back of the stage. My body felt hot and jumpy the longer I waited. He was here. He was so close. I wondered if he would be happy to see me. I panicked at the notion that he may just walk past me without acknowledgement. I had not contemplated that part. I just knew I needed to be here, at this time.

He had his head down as he descended the metal stairs. I smiled at the amount of silver that had invaded his hair. Clad in sunglasses, he looked soft in trousers, boots and a pull over. I was glad to see that the mustache and goatee were in place, but once again, speckled with gray in the best way possible. How was this man aging like this? He was even more handsome compared to his form from years before. He looked up and paused. I hoped that he saw me - that his slowing of tread was because of me. He took his sunglasses off and my breath stopped completely. He was walking towards me, eyes filled with recognition and warmth. I had no idea if it would be any kind of touch until he called me ‘Deep Purple’ and I had no choice but to fall into his embrace.

There’s a feeling that can overcome you when you pull on your favorite outfit, or snuggle down into the right blanket, or how the sunshine hits your face after you’ve been upset and you just know it’s all good. The moment he touched me was like all three moments in one. Every inch of me felt right. I felt elevated. I could feel his body shaking against mine, like he was totally filled with joy and anticipation. I felt like I whimpered as his mouth passed against the exposed skin of my neck. It was by no means anything other than him trying to get closer, but just the feel of his breath against my skin was enough to know he was right there with me - in the same mindset.

Damn. He called me ‘mouse’ and I lost it. All of the emotions struck like a tide. His lips met mine. My chest swelled with a pain of need and want and lust and most of all love. Love that was passionate and greedy. Love that was consuming. Love that was nurturing and unquestioning. Love that was his.

I heard his name being called. I knew I was in the final seconds of whatever this was. I did not want to let go. My spirit tried to reach out and cling to him as he had to continue to work. But the need for him to stay was shared between us. I could see it in him - he did not want to go. I touched his face, brushing away tears for both of us. They called for him again and a look flared in his features that I wasn’t sure if he was about to explode in rage or melt into me with need. I knew I was stammering to get words out. I always felt like his time was precious. Never more so than in that rush that was beginning to tug at him. I watched as he physically struggled against it.

Three weeks. He said three weeks. I’ve waited nearly twenty years, what was three more weeks?

Rarely do I ever take advantage of tickets for events that we get for free through work. However, that night, I was in a VIP box watching Jake strut around like a god. Those few around me noted that he seemed different - lighter. I did not move from my spot the entire time, watching him laugh and interact with his brothers and the crowd. I wondered if he knew I was there. I should have texted him, but I needed this for me. The last little scrap to tear away and accept that the man that the whole damn stadium was screaming for was mine.

Three weeks. I needed to focus on getting the rest of my shit in place. I was by no means quitting, but I was stepping up and through an opportunity that would allow much more flexibility and time away from the office. I purchased a ticket to get to the Detroit show. It was my whole focus. He texted every night, while I answered every morning. I wanted to drop everything and run to him. Strange how things had changed. I had spent so much time focused on the now - but I wanted that ‘now’ to be nothing but him.

“I’m happy for you,” Patrick admitted as I was carrying my bag out to set by the front door. “You’ve thought this through. This is what you want.”

“It’s what I want,” I replied as I rushed back to get my light trench coat from the back closet.

“It’s good to see you this happy, Y/n,” he said with a grin. “The girls are going to miss you fiercely.”

“I won’t be leaving forever. Just not around quite as much,” I said as I made sure my ticket was waiting in my phone. “And perhaps their favorite auntie will send them all sorts of shit from all over that will drive their daddy crazy.”

He shook his head with a naughty look. “You do and I’ll break each one before it gets into their hands. They’re still young enough that I can open and censor anything that you send.”

I laughed loudly. The incident of the harmonicas, kazoos, and slide whistles still gets talked about years after the actual occurrence. Or the slime-fest that Auntie Y/n promised and was met with unexpected consequences of it in the girls’ hair and staining outfits for days. The glitter shooters. The craft fairs that we would hold in Sidney’s living room were epic, but glue, beads and cutouts were not furniture friendly. And best of all, at the end of it, I could kiss them all and walk away from the annoyed parents and happy children.

“Regardless, they’re going to miss their Sunday time with you,” he said, his lips held tight.

“I’ll miss you too, Patty,” I said softly. “But I’m not going far, or for that long. We’ve got a lot to figure out yet.”

He was nodding, but I knew he was just hiding what he wanted to say. They were concerned for me. Hell. I was concerned. I never threw anything to the wind like this. Every step I made was measured and planned and had a direction that had an end goal in mind. This whole time. My goal for now however, was Jake. My direction was him. I said I was not one of those girls to drop everything for a man. That was true. I still wasn’t. But I was to a point in my career that I could dictate my role and my projects.

“I love you,” I said, coming to a stop in front of him. “I’ve loved you since second grade when you told me that I had a booger on my forehead. I love your family. I love your kids. Fuck if I miss much of that, right?”

“Love you too, punkin,” he whispered, tugging me close.

I was on the flight to Detroit when I saw that Jake texted a picture from the stage of Comerica Park. My heart flooded with his words: Tomorrow morning will be here in less than twelve hours. He was counting down. I had a car waiting for me at the airport that would take me to the hotel before dumping everything and running my ass off to get to the venue. I had a ticket for one of the boxes, but also told Cody to expect me backstage. He was a sweetheart about it, knowing that I was not going to be there to see him. That ruse had been blown. He just said that all my passes would be at the will-call window. True to his word, everything was there.

I got a beer and tucked into my spot - on Jake’s side, overlooking the stage. I could not hide the absolute joy that flooded my system as they hit the stage and the whole stadium exploded in sound. I had no idea how long the tears were standing in my eyes, or how they started to trail my makeup down my cheeks, but I was ruined by the midpoint of the show. Amidst blushed cheeks and racoon eyes, I ducked out of the box and could only hope that I was able to hide my mess until I got to the ladies room. I could hear Jake commanding another solo and it was like reverberating off my bones as I tried to pull myself together.

“Hey, honey, you all right over there?”

Fuck. I was totally caught being overstimulated and over emotionally wrought in the fucking bathroom. I was reaching for a wad of towels when the woman who was asking me my status came into view of the mirror. My insides froze. She froze as well before she quickly recovered. I had seen pictures of his mother that he had shown me during our time in Duluth. I had seen her at the exhibition for Clara, though from a far distance.

“Well, I’ll be,” she said, her tone shifting as she moved to get me more towels. “You’re Y/n if I’m not mistaken.”

I bit into my lip trying to stall just long enough to catch my breath. I had no voice to give her so I nodded.

“Jake said that he would be flying to St. Paul the moment he came off stage,” she replied with a small grin. “Guess he won’t have to now. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Karen.”

“Y/n,” I said, as I met her gaze through the mirror.

“So, I’ll ask again - you okay?”

I sucked in a hard breath. “Just having a moment. I don’t normally do things like this, but… Honestly. I didn’t want to wait.”

The smile that spread across her face was so like Jake’s in those quiet, over the top moments that he could barely hold himself together that it just caused all the emotions to rupture out of me all over again. She hushed and cooed as she rushed to help once more. I tried to warble out a thanks, but it just made things worse. It started with a chuckle, then a laugh and landed in a sob that was not my own. Karen had her own tears in her eyes as she wiped at her face.

“You really do love my boy, don’t you,” she sighed, as if just giving herself over to her own emotions.

All I could do was nod my head and we both just blurted out in a shared moment of joy. She was waving her hands wildly as she was trying to reign herself in. A ray of light shot across her features as she froze.

“I have an idea!” she announced. “I’m not sure how you were planning on reaching him, but I think we need to really do this right. Wait… How were you going to surprise him?”

“I have backstage access. I was thinking about trying to meet him after-”

A twinkle crossed her gaze. “You’re with me.”

She wrapped her hand around my wrist and pulled me out of the restroom and down the walkway. We rushed past the box that I was in and moved instead into one just beyond the barrier that read ‘No One Beyond This Point’. She pushed open the door to reveal a near identical box that I was in, but this one was furnished with a sidebar filled with iced drinks and snacks. There were about twenty people in the room, all were just visiting and watching every now and then. This was the family. I felt way out of place as Karen waved me towards the glass.

“Hon,” she called out as we approached three men that were tucked at the fore. “Hon…”

The moment the man turned to look at his wife, I knew it was Jake’s father. The way he leaned into her and listened and reached for her… Fuck. It was all Jake. The shy little smile. The secret language that he was able to share with his wife was all on display. His eyes turned to me and he was instantly on his feet.

“Wow, fancy meeting you here,” he opened with a wide smile.

“We have to surprise Jake. You in?” Karen beamed as she wrapped her arm around her man.

“Jake doesn’t like surprises,” Kelly remarked, brows furrowed.

“He’ll like this one,” Karen stated with finality.

I couldn’t help the spike of nervousness that invaded as my eyes turned towards the glass. Jake was stomping across the front of the stage racing towards the encore. I had no idea what I was getting myself into, but how awful would it be if his parents were ready to spring right into whatever was ahead for the two of us. I listened to them banter about how Jake was so looking forward to seeing me - how he had gushed over how we seemed to be the proverbial ships passing in the night over and over. I looked down as the spotlight dimmed across him before he stepped forward again to be awash in brilliant light. The silver in his hair was a halo around him. My heart thudded in my chest at the sight. I was putting myself in his parents’ hands. How the hell did this happen?

We’re down to one last posting to wrap this lovely little story up. See you next week!

@lvnterninthenight @doodle417 @luverleaver @jakesgrapejuice @fictional-duchess @milkgemini @positivegvfthings @songbirds-sweet @gretavanbitches @gardensgatedaisy @babyhoneygvfarchive @myownparadise96 @josh-iamyour-mama @starcatcherc @loveisonaroll @jakesstarlight @reesetrippingthelight @builtby-gvf @ignite-my-fire @wetkleenex-gvf @gold-mines-melting @starsasone @mysticalstarcatcher @montenegroisr @takenbythemadness @way-to-go-lad @cal-a-bungaa @thewritingbeforesunrise @leftjudgeempathsuitcase @brokenbells11 @imborrowedshesblue @vanfleeter

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